


With All Vice Tainted

by KeeperoftheNine



Series: The Vice Chronicles [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Asgard, Crass Loki, Dark Loki, F/M, Shameless Smut, Smut in first chapter, Some humour, coarse language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:12:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 72,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeeperoftheNine/pseuds/KeeperoftheNine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex, an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D is assigned to Asgard to keep an eye on the punishment of the war criminal Loki. Unfortunately, all it takes is one night for her to be compromised but it will take much longer for her to deal with the ramifications. Rated M for adult and at time dark themes and a morally ambiguous OC. Contains explicit content. Epilogue contains Thor: The Dark World Spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Be Careful What You Wish For

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! The re-write of _With All Vice Tainted_. There will be a few notable changes to the story that was previously posted here and on fanfiction.net, and I will list them below.
> 
> 1\. I have changed the name of my OFC from Danielle to Alexandra. This is due to the fact that, as much as I love the name Dani, it is now synonymous with my somewhat cruel neighbour who entertains herself by making my life difficult. To kickstart my muses, I needed to rename the character. She's still the same old... Alex... though ;)
> 
> 2\. Slight changes of terminology. The only people who will notice this are those of you who have told me you've read Vice four or five times. 
> 
> 3\. Removal of some references: especially all references to that horrible travesty of a book penned by E.L. James.
> 
> 4\. Change of ending. I don't want to give too much away, but this re-written Vice ends in quite a different way to the old fanfiction.net Vice. 
> 
> So with that in mind, I hope that you enjoy my re-written story. Welcome back to my loyal readers, and welcome anew to those who have just found the story. Welcome to the sordid world of _The Vice Chronicles_

**Chapter One  
Be Careful What You Wish For**

Alexandra Beckett would never have guessed that the Rainbow Bridge of legend would be so monumentally beautiful in reality. Beneath its transparent surface, rivulets of light danced, illuminating her boots in a riot of colour. A curious smile tilting her lips, she crouched so that her fingers could brush the hard, incomprehensible surface. Was it glass? Was it crystal? Was it a substance she did not even know existed? She suspected she would never find out. After all, the residents of Asgard seemed preoccupied with the myth, the memory of what they were and the knowledge that they would remain great. The practical nature of their existence, the physical form of the environment that surrounded them, seemed to invite little discussion.

Beneath her fingertips, the bridge seemed to breathe, a steady thrumming. Its presence was relaxing, almost _familiar_ in this vastly alien place. Not that she would have given up her assignment to Asgard for anything. It was just that sometimes the sheer intensity of it was a little... daunting.

Drawn by the thrumming, she drew her body flat against the cool surface. The pulse caressed her body, rhythmically tuning to her own heartbeat. Miles below, waves crashed against the monolithic sea cliffs that circled the realm of Asgard.

“You should not be here alone, mortal.”

The cold words folded around her, wrenching her body and soul from the comforting embrace of the Rainbow Bridge. A different sensation plagued her now, one that she did not wish to acknowledge; one that culminated between her thighs.

“I am not alone, Loki. Heimdall is watching.”

Sliding her bare arm across the bridge, she pointed forward. Sure enough, far in the distance a flash of the gold-clad watchman could be seen.

“And Heimdall would continue to watch as you slip off this bridge and fall to your death, Agent Beckett.”

_Agent Beckett_ , well that was better than _mortal_ at least. “I’m not sure whether to take that as a threat, or well-cloaked concern for my well-being?”

“Neither,” the prince replied, voice still cold. “It was a statement of fact.”

Alex moved onto her back, observing the intruder, well aware that her Asgardian nightdress was a little on the sheer side. It was not as if she had expected company. Besides, the prince had no doubt seen many naked women in his time – and horses, if the legends were to be believed. Not that she was _naked_. 

“I was under the impression that you were supposed to be serving some kind of punishment. Where are the stitches?”

Flinching, Loki ran long fingers over his lips. “You know full well that to wear the stitches now would undermine Odin’s goal. What is the point of humiliating me if there is no one to see my shame?”

Of course she knew this, but Loki’s night-bound freedom was something that brought Alex more than a little apprehension. The residents of Asgard were forbidden from paying the prince any heed during his nightly wanderings. The stitches were gone, but he became invisible in the eyes of the Aesir. Alex suspected she should do the same, yet the consequences of her ignoring him terrified her. Hardly surprising considering he had tried to enslave her race, killing off all those that got in his way. As a member of S.H.I.E.L.D she was no doubt high on his hit-list. In fact, as one of the agents in charge of his interrogation she probably made the top ten. Not that he had taken her questions seriously. He saw her as Director Fury’s attempt to drill him for information using a “pretty face and a nice arse”. His terminology had initially shocked Alex, but then again, he did call Natasha Romanoff a “mewling quim”, so she suspected his propensity for unexpected crassness was high.

While her inner feminist had been infuriated by this comment, Alex had also felt a little ecstatic that he thought her pretty, or that her posterior was worth ogling. Yes, he was a psychopath with a high body count and a superiority complex, but he was also a fine looking man. Ridiculously fine looking.

It was only now, with all the world issues sorted out and Loki safely imprisoned in Asgard, that Alex had come to discover something else about the prince. True enough, he was still psychotic and it did not seem as if he was too remorseful about his attempts to enslave the human race. Yet, one thing was obvious: he loved his family. Perhaps not Odin, hell, Alex could understand that. But Loki definitely loved his mother and obviously Thor too. It was also clear that he was resigned to his fate, almost _willing_ to undergo the punishment. 

It was this tiny inclination that Loki was something more than a brutal killer that made Alex sure that he would not push her from the bridge. That, and the fact that his startling pale emerald eyes were attuned to her chest. She guessed her breasts were somewhat exposed in the nightdress, but still, an immortal prince should not be a pervert. That went against everything Disney had told her about princes.

But then, Prince Philip did not murder eighty people with his own hands.

Prince Eric did not try to enslave the human race.

“Enjoying the view?”

The green eyes did not move away, his thin lips curling into a smirk. How did that normally sweet, handsome face contort into such demonic expressions of deviousness? 

The real question was: why did she covet his gaze _at all?_

“I suggest you remove yourself from this bridge, Agent Beckett. You have given Heimdall quite enough entertainment for the evening.”

She snorted, somewhat unflatteringly. “Heimdall is not the pervert around here.”

Nevertheless, she fitted her fingers within his outstretched hand, allowing him to aid her rising. As her booted feet steadied on the bridge, his hand shot away as though burned. Alex frowned. Clearly he thought her touch as appealing as sticking one’s arm in a septic tank.

Their journey to the citadel was swathed in silence. The only sounds that met their ears were the distant surging of water, the light trickle of nocturnal birdsong and, strangely, the eerie notes of a lone flutist. The palace itself, a shimmering organ of gold, was as silent as the world that surrounded it. A few guards patrolled, but they did not take notice of the prisoner and mortal in their wake.

By the time they reached her chambers, the silence was suffocating. His proximity had already rendered Alex’s body a quivering mess, which only added to the awkwardness of the situation.

Upon opening the door to her chambers, Alex was pleased to find the single lantern still burning, albeit dully, in the hanging. Loki followed her into the cavernous space, closing the door behind him.

“Um, have you forgotten where your cell is?”

The expression upon Loki’s pale face was unreadable. His eyes, however, were like an open book. Within seconds, her already weak limbs turned liquid and her heart drummed a feisty tattoo against her ribs.

The following events came forth with such unexpected force, that Alex was entirely unsure as to when her back met the rough spear of wall between the two monolithic windows. Fingers that were not her own brushed against her thighs, drawing up the flimsy skirt of her nightdress. His slim, athletic figure pressed against hers, the sharp edges of his light armour bruising tender skin. Cold eyes locked into her storm grey ones momentarily before all eye contact was broken by the kiss.

Oh, the kiss. It was the kind of kiss she had only read about in erotic romance novels, but never actually experienced in reality. Skilled lips danced upon her own, firm and soft in equal measure. His tongue probed her mouth, demanding entry which she willingly gave. While her own fingers curled in his hair, his seemed to be continuing their mission with her dress. _Oh God, why hadn’t she worn underwear? What kind of whore walks around in a sheer nighty without underwear?_ Her internal scolding fell on deaf internal ears as his forceful hands drew her legs up around his waist, eventually resting on the previously admired posterior. Pressed so close she could feel his erection even through his thick pants. _Why_ did he have to wear so much armour? She wanted him naked, on top of her, _inside her._

Or did she?

She was being paid to observe Loki’s punishment, not to spread her legs for him. She might not particularly like Director Fury, but it was flattering that he had enough confidence in her abilities to assign her such an important job.

Loki’s fingers were now dancing across her thigh again, drawing up to the apex between her legs. His thumb slowly slipped within her slit...

_No!_ This wasn’t right! This was unprofessional. She would not be compromised.

“Loki!” she hissed against his lips, fingers tightening in his raven locks. A moan issued from her throat as he inserted his middle and index finger inside her. The pad of his thumb continued the relentless assault upon her clit. His expert lips and tongue left her mouth, brushing instead against the ivory flesh of her neck. Teeth scored her, eliciting a burning pain, yet all she could do was groan.

His hand still doing unspeakable things to her nether regions, the god of mischief looked up, eyes dominating her own. “Tell me what you want, Agent Beckett.”

“I want you to go.”

A light, terrifying chuckle left his lips. “You lie. Tell me what you _really_ want.”

She bit her lip, a strangely innocent act considering she was being pleasured by a megalomaniac. “I want you inside me.” The moment the words left her lips she blushed. Did people really say that outside of romance novels?

“Is that so?”

The incessant ministrations of his fingers caused her to mewl pathetically. She mewled even more pathetically when he pulled away. She was so close! So very, very close!

“Be careful what you wish for, _Alexandra_.” His voice caressed her, far more so than his hands. With a great deal of pain, not to mention damage to the belongings on her desk, she was unceremoniously thrust upon the hard slab of wood. Hands wrenched her thighs apart forcefully, his hungry eyes upon her exposed flesh. With an ear piercing rip, the nightdress hiding the last vestiges of her modesty was torn from her skin, leaving her breasts open to the ravages of his mouth. 

“Perfect,” he murmured, struggling with the ties to his pants. She tried to help, only to have her fingers slapped away with a snarl. Before she could catch a glimpse of whatever weaponry he was wielding, his lips enveloped hers once more. The head of his erection brushed against the aching flesh of her sex, before he slowly pushed within. 

“Scream.”

His demand was somewhat odd, and despite the exquisite delight of his presence within her, she found herself cocking an eyebrow. “I’m not exactly – ah! – the screaming type.”

A malicious smile swept over his lips. “I want to hear you scream as you come.”

Egotistical prat. 

He was all thrusting, each plunge reaching an entirely new depth. Obscenities blended with blasphemies poured from her lips.

“LOKI!”

The two syllables echoed around the chamber as she rode on the aftermath of her orgasm. Several thrusts later, his own climax came, his exultation moaned into her neck. Almost instantly, he pulled away, tying up his pants and swooping toward the door.

“Until tomorrow night, Agent Beckett.”


	2. A Lack of Moral Code

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is: chapter two! For those of you who have read Vice before, you may notice some of my changes, but for the most part this remains like the original. In fact, the story will remain basically the same up until the last few chapters. I hope you enjoy!

**Chapter Two**

**A Lack of Moral Code**

If there was one negative aspect of her personality that Alex was quite happy to own up to, it was her inability to keep hold of resolutions. As each New Year dawned, she would find herself penning dozens of them, each perfectly reasonable. Yet, within a handful of days most of would be forgotten, dismissed, discarded. As the cruel rays of an Asgardian sunrise filtered through the burnt orange silk of her curtains, Alex found herself once more developing doomed resolutions.

Namely _one_ resolution.

_I will not be compromised... again._

It was an easy enough decision to make, bathed in the safe golden glow of the morning sun. This same light cast an unwanted spotlight upon the devastation wrought to her chambers. Somewhere between the wall and desk, Loki had knocked over her neatly stacked pile of books. Asgardian tomes now mingled with Midgardian, sprawled upon the tiles like fallen dominos. One of the rich curtains had been torn from its hangings (how did that happen?), fortunately providing a squashy landing spot for her laptop, which had been swept from the desk surface. Pens, quills and ink pots littered the floors, some shattered, leaving dark stains upon the tiles. 

Loki seemed proficient at destruction. He had left central New York a decimated waste land. Jotunheim was all but destroyed in his wrath. Really, in the scheme of things, the ruination of her personal chambers was nothing. But still, she could not help but think of it as a metaphor for the damage he was able to inflict upon _her._

She would not be compromised.

The resolution was sound, yet it roused a struggle between body and mind. On the one hand, she loathed him, loathed every single atom in his body. Not only had she endangered her _world_ , but she had lost many friends in his attack, some closer than others. Furthermore, he had apparently cast her as his personal whore. No doubt the bit of mortal crumpet he visited to ease the tension of spending his days chained in the citadel square, his lips sewn shut. She had not endured five years of university and two years of intense training to become a glorified booty-call, regardless of the godly status of her visitor. 

As dawn blossomed into mid-morning, she found herself attempting to eradicate the evidence of his presence. Ink was scrubbed from floorboards, her laptop lovingly returned to its rightful spot. The avalanche of books was reorganised, alphabetically, while the remains of the curtain was folded neatly and placed on a tiny bench by the door. It was only once Loki’s touch had been removed from the room that she began the task of scrubbing herself clean. Yet, it mattered not that the water in her bath was unbearably hot. The fat bar of strong Asgardian soap did nothing to lessen the underlying sensation that she was now tainted. Even as she looked at her pale reflection in the gold-framed mirror, she could not help but feel that the slim wraith of a creature was not the same Alex Beckett that had excitedly boarded the plane at Canberra International Airport only three months before.

Discarding this memory, Alex scooped her pale blonde hair into a rough bun at the nape of her neck before dressing quickly in her S.H.I.E.L.D uniform. For some reason the layer of navy blue cotton made her feel safe. It was like armour: familiar, a touch of home. It provided her with enough confidence to leave her chambers.

Grabbing a quick snack from the banquet hall, Alex made her way to the courtyard. It was a haven of tiling and luscious turf, littered with tiny garden beds sporting the most delicate flowers Alex had ever laid eyes on. She figured it would be a lovely place to relax, had it not been for the prince chained at its centre. Loki: the face of scorn. The visage was truly demonic, blood trickling down his chin from the jagged black stitches marring his lips. His upper body was bare, leaving pale flesh open to the vicious fingers of the midday sun. Chains stretched across the yard, attached to his wrists and ankles. 

Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

Upon her arrival, cold green eyes had appraised her. His were not the only ones. Those who came to ogle the fallen prince eyed the mortal with a mixture of curiosity and distrust. Ignoring them, she kneeled.

“Never again, Loki. You will not visit me; you will not speak to me. What happened last night was a mistake. Do I make myself clear?”

Green orbs twinkled deviously. Of course they did. To him, the adopted son of Odin All-Father, a being with infinitesimal power, her words were akin to the incoherent gurgling of a new born. Without thinking, she backhanded him across the face. The irritating twinkling did not disappear.

_Bastard._

oOoOoOo

Feasting, fighting and fucking. These seemed to be the three staples of everyday life for the high-born of Asgard. True enough, Odin ruled with dignity and the court was filled with tittering about honour. Yet, as the golden son fell over unseen horizons, _gravitas_ was replaced with debauchery. Odin would slip off to his bed chambers, immortality not keeping away the biting agonies of old age, leaving the young (by Asgardian standards) to enjoy their elongated youth.

Alex found it fascinating.

The parties that raged within the golden-hued halls of Asgard made the handful of barrels she had attended during her university years look like a child’s birthday party. Her two weeks exploring the realm eternal had exposed her to more naked bodies and open acts of debauchery than she had witnessed during her entire life. Admittedly, this meant relatively little considering the sheltered nature of her teenage years.

Her first initiation into the night life of Asgard happened only hours after she arrived. She had been exhausted. The day had commenced at five am, with Fury calling an impromptu meeting to brief her on her upcoming duties. There was nothing _brief_ about it. For five hours Fury and the Avengers had told her everything she needed to know about her mission. Why the meeting could not have taken place at a more reasonable hour eluded her. It clearly eluded the collaboration of superheroes too. Steve Rogers had idly tapped his 1943 theme tune on the table top, while Tony Stark had openly snored over his coffee. Following that, Alex had been carted away to the middle of nowhere, bi-frosted up to Asgard and introduced to the All-Father. To say she was lethargic was a complete understatement. 

Therefore, when Thor had dragged her to one of their nightly parties, she was less than enthusiastic. Here she had been introduced to Volstagg; a robust man with a huge curly ginger beard, who seemed stuck lichen-like to the buffet table. She had immediately liked him, though it had taken about an hour to convince him that vegetarians did exist, she was one of them, and that is why she was sticking to the delicious butter soaked potatoes. Munching on said potatoes, she had watched as Thor and his companions became increasingly inebriated on Asgardian mead, pulled out their weapons and started mock fighting over the buffet tables. Fandral darted out of the hall mid fight, only to return with a gaggle of the most beautiful women Alex had ever seen. That’s when the debauchery happened, and when Alex started to get disturbed.

In this moment, Sif, the Goddess of War, took a proactive approach.

She handed Alex a sword and started to teach her to fight.

So this was why, weeks later, Alex found herself enjoying these events. She had even learned to block out Fandral’s escapades. She did not attend every single night. Her mortal constitution would not have been able to handle it. Also, if she was to do so, she would never have been given the chance to explore the rainbow bridge and subsequently bed Prince Loki.

Or had he bedded her?

Could it even be considered bedding?

It was actually Loki that had inspired Alex to attend the frivolities this night. To put it simply, she wished to escape from him: his smouldering green eyes, devilish lips and those fingers! A flush stained her cheeks and she took a hearty swig of ale. Then another. 

“Steady on, my friend!” Volstagg’s excessively jovial voice cut through her reverie. “You know that ale does not agree with you.” 

He was joined by Sif, whose ruby lips were curled into a broad smile. “Is it true that you struck the _traitor_ during his punishment today?”

The venom in Sif’s pronunciation of ‘traitor’ was truly terrifying, and Alex was instantly glad that she was not in Loki’s shoes. 

Alex smirked. “I may have done.”

The smiles on Sif’s and Volstagg’s faces remained a while, before the Goddess of War grew serious. “Do not let Silvertongue get to you, Lady Alex. He has the ability to get into someone’s mind and make them tear themselves apart.”

Alex frowned. Was it her, or did it sound as though Sif was talking from experience?

oOoOoOo

It was early the following morning by the time Alex fell into her chambers. The delicious effects of the ale had all but worn off, leaving her yearning for the comforting depths of her bed. The night had been therapeutic to say the least. Mock-fighting with Sif had allowed her to channel some of her anger (both at Loki and toward herself) into physical exertion. She had enjoyed the culinary therapies of dessert, gorging herself on every sweetmeat Asgard came to offer. By the time she fell into bed, she had almost forgotten Loki.

Almost.

“Did you honestly believe you could escape me, mortal?”

A cold hand clamped down upon her lips, stifling the inevitable scream that followed. _He_ was _in_ her room. _How had he gotten there?_ Part of his punishment was to be stripped of his magic, yet here he was. As though reading her mind, he smirked.

“I may not have my magic, but there are ways around this palace that even the All-Father does not know of.”

Loki’s hand slipped away, only to be replaced by icy lips. Pressing the palms of both hands against his chest, she attempted to push him away. Their lips hummed with his chuckle.

“Fuck off,” she mumbled, her crass words becoming undistinguishable through the pressure of the kiss. “I said, _fuck off_.”

“I am afraid, Agent Beckett, that there is really no way you can make me.” His smirk morphed into a sneer.

“I’ll call for Thor!” Her words sounded even more pathetic out loud than they had in her head. Nevertheless, they appeared to have the desired effect. The prince’s perfect alabaster skin paled. “Or your father.”

His eyebrow cocked. “And if I told them of our previous encounter?”

“I will call you a liar.” Her eyes darkened. “You are, after all, the God of Lies.”

“I am the god of _many_ things.” Loki’s voice emerged as a hiss, the quick wink a clear indication of his intention. 

“Who honestly says things like that? Seriously, Loki, bugger off.”

“Make me.”

“I will call Thor, I seriously will.”

“I seriously doubt it, _Alexandra_. Were you to do that, my punishment would be extended throughout the night and you would never again have the pleasure of my company.”

“That sounds like a pretty good arrangement to me.”

Unfortunately, Loki’s silver tongue chose not to respond with words, but rather with action as once again his lips locked with hers, tongue brushing against her teeth.

_Damn you Loki! Damn you Fury! Damn you non-existent restraint_. Alex thought bitterly as her body threatened to surrender. Clearly playing hard to get was not her forte, nor was having any kind of moral code. 

Slowly, his fingers looped within the straps of her gown (getting drunk in her S.H.I.E.L.D uniform hardly seemed professional) and it became official.

He had rendered her a mindless idiot, consumed by lust.

Her resolution had failed.

She was well and truly compromised.

For now...


	3. Mercurial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another chapter of Vice to be enjoyed. I will not be able to post any more updates until Tuesday night (as I somehow got talked into doing the back to back ghost tours tomorrow evening. Ah, the joys of guiding). But I'll leave you with three. Aren't I lovely? Don't answer that.

**Chapter Three  
Mercurial**

His sentence had been delivered before the accumulated might of the Asgardian nobility. Men, women and children: they all gathered to gawk at the broken prince. Many did not even bother to adopt an heir of dignity, their mouths open in silent shock at the pale, chained creature being dragged through their midst. It was not as though their hostility surprised him. Unlike Thor, Loki had never bothered to rouse favour within the nobility. He was the youngest son, and despite his father’s cryptic words, he knew he would never be chosen as heir. As the years passed, a reputation grew around the dark prince. His penchant for magic inspired distrust; his mischief earned him enemies, while his involvement in the deflowering of many of their daughters resulted in their hatred. Those that gathered on the day of his sentencing were not present out of indignation for his actions on Midgard, or even for his stint as king. Rather, they were there to see him punished for their own personal slights.

Even now, weeks later, he would lock eyes with those he had wronged. Some were happy to stand back, perhaps basking in the sight of the prince chained, his silver tongue imprisoned behind jagged stitches. Others were more inclined toward action. The blows were nothing compared to what he had endured at the hands of the Hulk. The cruel words barely registered. He had even coped when one cuckolded husband (Loki remembered this man’s wife very fondly) drove a steel capped boot deep into his groin. Blinking back tears of pain, he had promised himself that upon his release, he would flay the man within an inch of his life.

Yet none of these visitations meant anything. The moment the slighted individual left, Loki would forget them. They were inconsequential. 

With one notable exception.

Loki had to admit, he would have been content with the mere memory of Agent Alexandra Beckett writhing against him. She had provided a welcome distraction from the monotony of his daily incarceration, and he would not deny that she was a delectable morsel – for a mortal. Unlike the maidens of Asgard, she was all curves. Her hair was like spun gold, silken between his fingers. He _yearned_ to corrupt her, but the chit had fallen so easily. He delighted in the power play between her mind and body. It was clear he repulsed her, yet she spread her legs for him regardless. Enjoyable though the conflicted little whore was, he had little intention of visiting her again, despite his parting words.

That was until she appeared in the courtyard.

As she knelt before him, he could not help but ponder what it would be like to have her kneel in an entirely different fashion. To have those plump, defiant lips wrapped around him. His cock twitched at the very thought.

“Never again, Loki.” Her voice was low, almost husky. “You will not visit me, you will not speak to me. What happened last night was a mistake. Do I make myself clear?”

Despite the venom coating the words, Loki could see the conflict within her pale eyes. What an enigma this little mortal was. Her words basically screamed invitation, while their meaning conveyed the complete opposite. Had his lips been freed, he would have smirked.

And then she _struck_ him. It had happened so many times before, but as her soft little hand collided with his cheek, Loki almost groaned. He was glad for the loose slacks he was expected to wear, for he could feel his arousal growing. Perhaps the little chit would be worthy of another visitation?

Perhaps it was boredom, or maybe it was the fact she was the only one who acknowledged his existence? He was not entirely sure. It hardly mattered. Surely he deserved some pleasure, for what was punishment without a balm? The pain meant nothing if he did not have anything to compare it to.

The imprint of her hand still psychologically scored on his cheek, Loki watched as the sun ducked below the ragged horizon. As all light dissolved unto the coming of night, so too did the stitches that marred his lips. The chains dropped away, leaving him kneeling, alone. As always, he found it difficult to get to his feet, and once he did it required even more effort to walk the few steps toward a nearby stool. A few people remained within the yard, but as was the wish of the All-Father, they ignored Loki. 

His routine was etched in tedium, and he followed through the movements as though they were as natural as breathing. Willing his ragged walk into a stride, he followed the familiar path to his chambers. The lanterns were lit, a nutritious, yet unappealing, platter of food placed on his desk. After gulping down the provided jug of water, he picked idly at the food. It was dry and tasteless. For a second, he found himself pondering what they were eating in the banquet hall. No doubt his little mortal strumpet was there, indulging herself on the finest cuisine. He imagined her to have a healthy appetite, eating as though every meal were her last, unlike the priggish Asgardian women who took dainty mouthfuls of only the healthiest morsels.

Wiping thoughts of the silly girl from his mind, he bathed, covering his sun-tinted body in the many layers of his casual armour. It provided sanctity, and for a few minutes he could pretend that he was himself. 

It was only once he had donned this veneer that the God of Mischief left his chambers...

oOoOoOo

_Impatience_ , he had once told his brother, _is not a virtue._

Thor had laughed at him then, slapping him on the back with a hearty wink. “Wait, brother, until you have something to be impatient about.”

At the time, Loki thought that Thor was simply being obnoxious. It was not an uncommon trait for the God of Thunder. Yet now, as he lay reclined on the soft amber-toned coverlets of her bed, he thought his brother may have had a fair point. _Where was she?_ The pile of books and study tools meticulously placed upon her desk were a clear indication that the girl preferred the company of parchment over people. Perhaps she was nestled within the library, or better yet, sprawled across the Rainbow Bridge? 

It was only as he readied himself to leave that the door burst open. She did not look inside, merely closing the door. It was clear that she had been drinking, from her slight stumble to the red flush on her pale cheeks. 

Perfect. Ripe for the taking.

Loki lunged forward. “Did you honestly believe you could escape me, mortal?”

oOoOoOo

_He is mercurial. He is psychotic. Do not trust him, Agent Beckett. Never let down your guard._

It had seemed a strange warning at the time. Not because it was not true. On the contrary, Alex knew every word that had left Fury’s mouth was accurate. Rather, it was the fact that Fury deemed it necessary to point out the obvious that struck Alex as unusual. Rather than open her mouth, the young agent had nodded, leaving the bridge.   
The Cage Room, as it was colourfully known aboard the helicarrier, had become an area to which few agents wished to be assigned. The prisoner had been aboard the carrier mere hours and already there was a competition as to who could withstand his presence the longest. Perhaps it was her youth, or maybe it was the natural competitive streak that came with being Australian, but Alex desperately wanted to win.

As the doors hissed open, Alex’s predecessor, Agent Greyjoy, almost hurdled toward the door, a therapeutic cup of coffee clutched within his fingers. 

His eyes had met Alex’s.

“He gets into your mind.”

How true Agent Greyjoy was. Upon seeing the prisoner behind the glass, Alex knew she was lost. It was not his physical beauty that drew her in, nor the sultry voice, but rather the eyes. Glazed with cruelty, she could see within their depths a great contradiction: anger, pain, yearning and an almost gut wrenching sadness. Beneath the psychopath was a young boy rejected by his father, an adopted son that had cowered too long in the shadow of his older brother. He reminded her so much of a certain little girl, a weak thing whose existence had been ruled, was _still_ being ruled, by the men in her life. 

The moment words spilled from Loki’s lips, Alex knew why they called him Silvertongue. His words were not just gurgles of sound, strung syllables, but delicate fingers that swept into one’s mind and started to knead. His own mind was sharp as a tack, brimming with mischief, overflowing with knowledge. His intelligence was staggering.

She knew then that she should be absolutely terrified of this man and his cruel, manipulative silver tongue.

She still _was_ , despite the fact that this silver tongue was now between her legs, manipulating her in a completely different fashion.

In the past, she barely tolerated this kind of caress, her previous ‘lovers’ lapping at her like a cat with a saucer of milk. Loki was a completely different story. He took his time, savouring her, alternating between delicate licks and languid swishes of his skilled tongue. Her fingers tangled in his raven locks, heels digging into his leather clad back, brain seemingly incapable of registering the multitudes of sensation he was doting upon her. Smirking against her clit, the god of mischief slipped two long fingers deep within her, eliciting the kind of wanton groan she did not even think herself capable of. Climax threatened, yet as her back arched and stars dashed before her eyes, he pulled away – robbing her of coveted release.

He chuckled, a cruel jab that added ice to the fire in her veins. Weak fingers surrendered their grip on the silken sheets, grasping at him, physically begging him to continue his actions. Much to Alex’s disgust, she felt her lips press into an involuntary pout, dark eyes searching his face for any indication of his intentions.

“Patience, little whore. You made me wait; now I shall return the favour.”

His trademark smirk still in place, Loki sat up, slowly undoing the leather ties of his pants. She could do nothing but watch, captured by the sight, gaze alternating between his pale green orbs and the bulge at his groin. Her tongue slipped across her lips as he freed himself, running a slim hand down the length of his shaft. She yearned to touch it, but once more he slapped away her roving fingers. 

“Not yet, little one.”

Alex barely registered the tears dripping down her cheeks. “Stop – _fucking_ – teasing me, you bastard.”

“Your lewd tongue is hardly endearing.” By now his fingers were wrapped tight around his length, pumping it slowly. With his spare hand, he grabbed her arm, yanking her so that she straddled him. Fingers clutched her hips, leading her down upon his cock, guiding the rhythm of their movement. 

The smirk disappeared, replaced now by the delicate gasp of pleasure. It was a look that did not look out of place on Loki’s face, and in Alex’s opinion only made him more ridiculously beautiful. Her moment on top was short lived as he drove her into the mattress, grabbing the headboard as his hips rolled against hers.

His movements were torturously slow, as though he were determined to have her as long as possible. She groaned against him, running her tongue across his perfect jaw. More than anything she wanted his clothes removed, so her fingers could dance across ivory skin. As her climax came, his thrusts roughened, finally eliciting his own jagged release. Red flushed his usually pale cheeks, eyes livid.

“You are mine,” he hissed, burying his face within the valley of her breasts.


	4. Insolence

**Chapter Four  
Insolence**

_Mine_.

It was a deceptively simple word, yet a multitude of connotations lurked beneath the four tiny letters, the one sharp syllable. It was certainly not the first time Alex had heard the word spill from the lips of a man, and she suspected it would not be the last. In the innocence of youth she had entertained the notion that it was an endearing word, yet her short adulthood had taught her otherwise. It was a word of power, of subjugation. Once the word was uttered, it did not matter how much Alex worked, how much she strived for independence, she was _owned._

She hated it.

It was for this reason alone that she slipped from beneath the armoured prince, falling in an ungainly heap on the mat beside her bed. Her fingers reached out for the lump of silk that once constituted her fine Asgardian gown, and she draped the material over her naked form. 

It took a while for Loki to realise that his pillow had disappeared. He turned his head to glance upon her, eyes hidden by rogue locks of raven hair that he idly slipped behind his ear. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I am _not_ yours.” 

The words were feeble, yet the intention was not. 

Loki simply replied with a lopsided smile and a derisive snort.

“Your actions weave an entirely different spell.” 

Alex rolled her eyes at his cryptic response. Like everything that Loki said, she suspected his words held many meanings, but at this moment she did not particularly care. She wanted him gone, not just from her rooms, but from her _life_. She knew this to be admitting defeat. Were she to ask for a reassignment, she would be submitting to Loki’s dominance and thus proving the fact she was _his_. His little nightly dalliance. His whore. Even thinking about it sickened her.

Loki made no move to leave her bed. “You are a curious mortal. Others of your kind would beg to be in your place. To bed a god.”

“You are not a god,” she stammered. “You’re just a weird, super strong alien with nice cheek bones. Now _get out_.”

The dark slash of his eyebrow rose. “Now we both know you do not wish for that. There are still many hours before dawn.”

Alex scowled. Damned Asgard and its peculiar solar cycle. Her eyes turned to the tiny Midgardian alarm clock she kept on the dresser. It, like all the other electrical appliances she had brought to Asgard, was powered by a small generator: a present from Tony Stark. At this moment, the tiny red fingers of light read: 4.08am.

It would be three hours before the Asgardian sun chose to venture over the horizon. Three hours before Loki would be forced, through necessity, to leave. Removing herself from the floor, she sat at her desk chair, eyes not leaving the figure on her bed. Even covered with leather and metal, Loki lying upon her bed was still one of the most sensuous things Alex had ever witnessed. The realisation of this fact only encouraged her to further her resolve.

It was the alcohol. She had drunk too much the night before. He had caught her by surprise. It would _not_ happen again.

Yet as his emerald eyes locked onto her grey, she realised swiftly that her excuses meant nothing. The armoured god lifted himself gracefully from the mattress, fingers idly tying up his pants as he did so. Apart from the slightly ruffled hair, he was immaculate. 

Two short strides were all it took for him to stand before her. “I have no patience for this,” he growled, gripping her menial covering and ripping it from her body. “You, mortal, forget your place.”

“And you forget y-”

While her words sounded strong in her head, they sounded ridiculous muffled by his lips. His fingers dug into her forearms, dragging her back to the bed. He released her lips only momentarily, as she was thrown unceremoniously upon the mattress. One of his hands drew forth to clasp two of hers above her head. The other slipped between her legs, long fingers dipping deep within her.

She whimpered, trying to struggle against him, but his caresses intensified. 

“You claim you do not want it, but your body evidently disagrees,” he hissed, removing his fingers. Slowly, he licked one slick finger, before forcing both between her closed lips. “You have forced this upon yourself, my little harlot. Had you not struck me in the courtyard I would have left you be, but now...” his smile turned cruel. “Now I intend to take you in every conceivable way. I will take my time, coming to you every single night, dragging it on until the only thought in that pretty little head of yours is _me_. Only _then_ will I go. Do you understand?”

She nodded, eyes wide. Loki removed his fingers.

“Good girl. Now, you are going to follow all of my instructions. If you fail to, you will be punished.”

His cock now free from its prison of leather and metal, Loki use both hands to flip her, pushing her face down into the bed. Alex blinked, the tears welling unknown within her eyes now soaking into the coverlet. It was then Loki issued his first instruction: “Take the headboard.”

Despite the niggling voice of defiance still present in her _pretty little head_ , Alex obeyed. The wood was cold against her fingers, slightly scratched from Loki’s own fingernails. She blushed. 

“Make no noise,” came his next instruction, his hands gripping her hips. Alex bit her lip as he brushed his length over her clitoris before positioning himself at her entrance. His first thrust was slow, torturous, but this lasted a mere moment. Despite his clear instructions regarding _her_ behaviour, Loki had little intention of obeying them himself, his obscene moans filling the room. The sound was so intoxicating she almost moaned herself, only to remember his words. She did not want to experience Loki’s definition of punishment.

As his thrusts hardened, the headboard rattled beneath her fingers. Rhythmic, loud, almost as if someone were knocking...

“LADY ALEX! YOU MUST WAKE!”

...at the door. Loki’s thrusts stopped as he recoiled, his brother’s voice the very last thing he expected to hear during his nightly escapades. Alex felt the colour fade from her cheeks, and scolded herself for blaming the headboard for the knocking noises. Was she really that much of an idiot? 

“Get out of here!” she hissed in Loki’s direction. Though she disobeyed him, the God of Mischief did as she suggested, slipping behind a panel obscured by a large tapestry. She idly made a note to put her desk in front of that tapestry. Grabbing the dishevelled dress, she tried her best to look tired, opening the door.

“Thor, what is it?”

“Lady Alex. You look terrible.” Thor’s periwinkle eyes glinted with concern. 

Alex allowed a small smirk to curl her lips. “You sure know the way to a girl’s heart, Thor.” She opened the door further, allowing him in. The bed looked ruffled, but no more than it should after a rough sleep. The open windows had long since swept the scent of sex from the room. 

“I am sorry, Lady Alex. I did not wish to wake you, but your presence is required on Midgard immediately.”

Alex groaned. “ _Really_?”

“Indeed.”

“I mean, this isn’t just Tony’s idea of a joke?”

“Why would Stark find this humorous?”

Alex shrugged. “Because he’s odd, rich and potentially unstable.” 

“You are correct,” Thor conceded. “But this is no joke concocted by the man of Iron. I will allow you to pack and dress, but we must depart before the sixth hour.” With a small nod, the God of Thunder left, leaving Alex rather shocked.

_Well that was helpful_.

While Loki was a veritable library of unwanted details, Thor could not even inform her whether or not she would be on Midgard for a prolonged period of time. With a sigh, she grabbed her rucksack, throwing her laptop, a few books and a bundle of spare clothes into its depths. She would leave the rest: if she never returned to Asgard, they could send it all back with Thor. It was only as she slipped toward the bathroom that she noticed the tapestry move. 

“This is a most unfortunate turn of events.” 

Loki allowed the tapestry to fall over the still open panel, following her into the bathroom. Despite his presence, she started the water running into the bath, placing her folded S.H.I.E.L.D uniform upon the vanity. Long fingers brushed her hair aside, his lips pressing a light kiss to the back of her neck. “How am I supposed to entertain myself now?”

“You have a perfectly serviceable hand,” Alex replied, “and I’m sure there are plenty of _books_ in the library containing sketches of buxom Asgardian wenches.”

“Oh, I do not need to go to the library for _those_.” She could feel his smirk against her neck. For some reason the idea of Loki having a collection of antiquated pornography made her alternate between arousal and amusement. With a twist of her wrists, she turned the water off. The bathroom was now rich with the scent of jasmine and vanilla, which easily overpowered that of sex and leather.

Slipping her ruined garment from her shoulders, she stepped into the large tub, turning back to meet his eyes.

“I would ask you to join me, but then that would require you to remove your armour. We couldn’t have _that_.”

Loki ignored her sarcasm, grabbing her face between his hands and kissing her. It was light, despite the ferocity of his embrace, his tongue barely brushing hers before he pulled away. “Until your return,” he whispered. “Expect punishment for your insolence.”


	5. For the Term of His Unnatural Life

**Chapter Five  
For the Term of His Unnatural Life**

Alex had little time nor inclination to ponder what kind of punishment Loki had in store for her. He was a subtle creature. It was unlikely her punishment would be as blatant as whipping or bondage, though she pondered whether Loki would want to indulge in such acts before he grew tired of her.

Alex scolded herself for dwelling on such unhealthy thoughts. Thor had been less than forthcoming with information: maybe she would be on Earth – _Midgard_ – for months, even years? Would Loki’s interest in her survive such a length of time? Not that it necessarily mattered...

Hoisting her rucksack higher onto her shoulder, Alex followed Thor down the expanse of the Rainbow Bridge. At its end perched the skeletal beginnings of a new observatory, the Tesseract glowing at its heart. According to those designing it, the beauty of this new structure would make the old observatory resemble a dirty barn. Alex seriously doubted anyone in Asgard even knew what a dirty barn was. 

It was only once they stood before the high archway that would one day be the entrance, exchanging silent greetings with the ever stoic Heimdall, that Alex began to ponder the reasoning behind her summons. Thor had told her to be ready within the hour, but in no way insinuated that it was a life or death situation. No doubt it would be nothing more than a standard S.H.I.E.L.D meeting, which apparently Alex needed to attend. Nevertheless, she could not shake the feeling that maybe, _just maybe_ , Thor and the Avengers had found out about her nightly activities.

Of course this was ridiculous. She and Loki had only been at it two nights...

Still...

Gulping, Alex avoided the direct glance of the all-seeing Heimdall before following Thor into the observatory. Despite the marvel of Asgardian architecture being constructed around it, the Tesseract remained safely encased within the vessel designed by Tony Stark. Taking the second handle of the device, Alex prepared herself from the gut churning journey through space and time. 

“Are you ready?” Thor’s voice seemed distant, despite their proximity. Alex could not help but wonder what was on his mind. The God of Thunder hardly seemed the contemplative type, but the last few hours he had seemed... preoccupied.

Alex nodded. “As I’ll ever be.” 

The moment the handles were turned, both she and Thor were plunged into a dancing ocean of rainbow light. It was as though she had been snagged by a giant fishing line, the hook imbedded deep in her naval, dragging her forward. It was not painful. Disorientating, yes, but not painful. After what seemed like millennia, or perhaps only a millisecond, her booted feet collided with solid ground. The stench of ozone filled her nostrils, soon to be followed by the much more homely aroma of... coffee?

“Welcome back, Alexandra.”

Alex blinked several times, barely registering the fact that there were several faces looking straight at her. She followed the scent of coffee, her eyes finally falling upon a tall, fit middle-aged man with a shock of dark hair. He held the cup of coffee out to her with a tanned hand, deep brown eyes gleaming. Alex paled but took the coffee anyway. 

Of course she should have known _he_ would be there. _He_ was her supervisor after all, the man who had brought her out from Australia to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. If it were not for Lucas Malory she would still be an analyst, wasting away in an office writing reports for the government. He said he saw her potential: that was why he got her reassigned. _That_ was why she spent the next two years training at a top secret facility in the Australian outback. It was only one year into this training that she realised that Malory wanted something in return. 

“Lucas.” Her voice was weak, but she was fortunately saved from further conversation by the deep tones of Nick Fury. Even though she had met the likes of Odin, Fury still scared the living daylights out of Alex. His lips never seemed to crack into a smile, his one remaining eye boring into hers so intensely it was as though he could read her thoughts.

A disturbing concept, considering their lascivious nature.

“Agent Beckett. No doubt you are wondering why we have called you here.”

Alex sipped the coffee. It took almost everything she had not to groan. Malory might be a controlling prick, but he knew her coffee preferences down to a tee. She nodded at Fury. It was only now that she realised that she was standing on top of Stark Tower, high above the decimated city of New York. Even from here, she could see the repair work starting on the surrounding buildings. In the distance, one of the Chitauri leviathans was being dismembered, lowered down in pieces from its final resting place atop a several story apartment block. 

Stark Tower was not exactly looking chipper itself. All the letters but one had been torn from its side, the smashed windows now covered in semi-transparent tarpaulins. Tony Stark himself was one of their greeting party, along with Steve “Captain America” Rogers and Dr Bruce “The Hulk” Banner. 

Fury continued. “It’s probably best if we talk about this inside.”

The group was anything but silent as they headed into the tower. Stark, unused to keeping his tongue still, was talking to Thor who seemed to take everything the mortal man said with a stab of insult. Alex was not really paying attention. Instead, her ears were tuned only to the smooth words of Malory.

“I have been trying to get you assigned to my project for weeks now.” 

Alex simply sipped her coffee, allowing her supervisor free reign of the conversation.

“Asgard is a dangerous place, and while I am flattered that Fury would choose one of my agents for this assignment I can’t help but feel that-”

His greasy tones were cut short as they entered a conference room to find Agents Natasha Romanoff and Maria Hill sipping coffee in silence. Clint “Hawkeye” Barton was perched by the large windows, peering out toward the broken cityscape. Upon Fury’s entrance, everyone took a seat. Alex did not even have enough energy to gasp in surprise when a holographic monitor appeared before her, an illusion that reeked of Stark tech. 

Fury ran a finger against the display in front of them, synchronising all of the monitors. “Since the defeat of the war criminal Loki four weeks ago, I have been working with Thor, Stark and Malory to develop a way to permanently incarcerate him here on Earth.” Fury was never one to waste words, and this blunt beginning caused Alex, as well as several of the others seated at the table, to look up in surprise. 

Rogers was the first to comment. “I was under the impression that he would remain with Thor’s people.”

Thor looked somewhat uncomfortable at this. “Loki is only being punished for his crimes against Asgard. Odin believes it is up to Midgard to punish him for the actions he committed here.”

Stark snorted. “In other words, your dad doesn’t give a crap.”

“I did not say that,” growled Thor. Stark opened his mouth to respond, only to be cut short by Fury.

“The only problem with this project has been finding a location for Loki’s prison, a problem we think we have now solved.”

The information on the monitors changed. Now they could see a red landscape dotted with gnarled trees. In the distance a vast expanse of coastline ran into the horizon. The picture zoomed in, finally bringing them to what looked like an abandoned mine bordered by an empty campsite.

“I’ve been here,” Alex started. “A few years back. There’s nothing out there, what makes you think..?”

“Exactly,” Malory smirked. “There is nothing out there. What we do have is a system of empty mining tunnels, and easy access through these shafts.” He gestured to three main points, the impact of his finger against the monitor highlighting these areas in red on the adjoining screens. “The campsite nearby can be easily monitored by S.H.I.E.L.D personnel, any tourists deterred. It’s the perfect location.”

“How do you intend to deter the tourists?” Alex asked dryly. “ _I_ camped there.”

Fury almost cracked a smile at this. “I believe men with guns usually make a pretty good deterrent, Agent Beckett.”

“I was under the impression that we wanted to keep the location top secret,” Stark drawled. “It’s hardly secret if we have a bunch of S.H.I.E.L.D lackeys hanging about.”

“We’ll just say it’s a military base,” Malory replied. “The Geraldine lead mine is kilometres away from anything. If the prisoner did escape, we would spot him long before he makes it to any populated areas. Besides, no one would suspect a top secret facility of existing in the middle of Western Australia.” He shot a quick, knowing wink in Alex’s direction. She frowned.

“How long will we keep him there?”

“For the term of his natural life,” Malory replied. “Or unnatural life, as the case may be.”

A quick glance around the room revealed to Alex that most of the Avengers thought the idea as preposterous as she did. Yet, there was something else that neither Fury nor Malory were saying, something that made her feel even more uncomfortable. If Loki did manage to escape, if he made it to one of the surrounding population centres down the Western coast of Australian, the damage would be considered minimal. Her home, her country had only twenty-million people. Should they keep Loki in the United States, they would be endangering the lives of over three-hundred million. 

It was Barton that broke the uncomfortable silence. “What’s the point exactly? I agree he needs to be punished, but why not let him rot away in Asgard?”

Once again the monitors changed, flashing the cobalt cube of the Tesseract. Fury cleared his throat. “Loki had allies. Thor tells us that one of these goes by the name of Thanos. Should he come to earth, having Loki here could be of use to us.”

“Or a danger,” Barton suggested. 

“Either way, development of the complex has started.” Fury flicked the screen once more. The idyllic tree strewn scene they had seen before was now covered in a number of tents and SUVs. One of the water filled mine shafts was being emptied. “We estimate it will be completed within a year. Thor tells us that Odin has agreed to hand over the prisoner at this time. This brings me to Agent Beckett-”

Alex looked up from her monitor. So far she had been pondering the reasons why she had even been summoned. She may have visited the Geraldine campsite in the past, yet two nights sitting around a campfire singing lewd songs hardly made her an expert. 

“You will remain on Asgard for the next year to monitor the prisoner.”

At this Malory stood up, evidently shocked by this decision. “I thought we agreed-!”

Fury cut him short. “Once Loki is here, you will be assigned to the Geraldine outpost, under the supervision of Malory.”

“This is _not_ what we agreed,” hissed Malory. “She was meant to stay with me!”

Fury did not even stir. “When you brought Agent Beckett to S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters, you put her under my jurisdiction.”

Malory continued to seethe, but thankfully chose to keep his lips shut. Had Alex slept a wink the night before, rather than spending the time twisting the sheets with Thor’s adopted brother, she may have been able to contemplate the situation a little better. She would be on Asgard for another _year_. A year of drunken Asgardians, of days spent wandering around the golden city, of nights interrupted by the God of Mischief. It was a truly terrifying thought.

“Director Fury,” she stammered slowly, her voice almost inaudible. “I’m not exactly sure I am the best person for this.”

“You are the only person for this. You have spent the most time with the prisoner, apart from those assembled here.”

Alex almost smiled. In other words, she was the only one at the table who was not indispensable. She could feel almost every set of eyes trained on her. It was by far the most unusual meeting she had ever attended, everyone dead silent, the topic of conversation so vague as to almost be ridiculous. 

Finally, she nodded. “I will do it.”

oOoOoOo

The tunnels and hidden paths channelled through Odin’s palace like arterial veins. They had been there for millennia, originally constructed so that the servants could flitter from room to room unseen. It had been many years since that sort of practice was deemed politically incorrect in Odin’s eyes, and now the tunnels were all but forgotten. As a child, Loki had used them in aid of his mischief, as an adult he continued this practice, though the mischief had taken on a darker, more nefarious, air.

The journey to the mortal’s chambers was one he had made every day since her departure two weeks previous. Of course, there was no reason for Thor or Odin to inform him when she returned. At the end of the first week he had been utterly furious. The stupid chit was meant to be his balm!

Though the anger remained, Loki did not stop returning to the room. He slept in her bed, read her quaint Midgardian books, even experimented with some of the little devices she had brought along from home. He did not know why he kept coming back, knowing full well that there was a high likelihood she would not be returning. Perhaps it was the fact that his own chambers offered little comfort? That was the haven of his past, a place drenched with foolish childhood dreams and his father’s cruel lie. 

The panel that led into her chambers opened easily, silently. The room was dark, lit only by the full moon gleaming through slightly open curtains. While most nights he would be content to simply read or even take his pleasure upon her bed, his mind was unnaturally active this evening. His brother had finally returned from Midgard, but from what Loki could tell, Agent Beckett had not accompanied him. Loki had followed his brother’s stomping footsteps through the halls, unheard in his secret tunnels. Every so often he peeked out through tiny concealed holes, catching a glimpse of the red and silver clad God of Thunder. Thor had led him straight to Odin’s chamber.

“My son.” The wisened king smiled. “I trust I find you well this night?”

Thor nodded deeply. “I apologise for my prolonged stay on Midgard, father.” Much to Loki’s delight, Thor looked positively uncomfortable. “I was spending time with Jane.”

_Spending time with Jane_. Loki almost snorted. Pushing her into the mattress with his animalistic rutting more like. At least Loki could boast finesse as a lover. 

“Heimdall informs me that the business on Midgard went well.”

Thor looked up at his father’s words. “Those who call themselves S.H.I.E.L.D believe they have found a suitable location for-”

“Hush, Thor.” Odin held out his hand. Loki could have sworn he saw a rush of panic spread across the old man’s face. “These halls have ears.”

“Loki? But he is imprisoned within his chambers..?”

“Your brother wanders, though we are sworn not to see him.” For an instant Loki was sure Odin was looking straight at him through the hole in the wall. “It would be wise to watch your tongue. Now tell me, is Agent Beckett to return?”

“Lady Alex agreed to continue observing Loki,” Thor replied. “I am to return to Midgard to collect her in a week. She has been, as the Midgardians call it, on _leave_.”

Loki had departed his hiding place at this stage, sure that he would derive no further information from the conversation. Though he had gathered the knowledge he wanted: that the silly little mortal would be back, his mind was occupied by something else. What was it that Odin did not want him to hear? What did Thor mean by _location_? Location for what? The only thing Loki knew for certain was that Alexandra knew the answers, and upon her return, he was determined to get them from her. 

In every way he knew how.


	6. Impudence Hath Made You Shameless

**Chapter Six  
Impudence Hath Made You Shameless**

The lumbering hulk that was Thor looked distinctly out of place in Alex’s small, dusty apartment in central Canberra. Bedecked in full armour, he had attracted several sidelong glances from those in the lobby. A number of people had begged for his autograph, amazed that a real life Avenger was in their midst, let alone the God of Thunder. Others were disapproving.

This was one thing that Alex had noticed during her brief stay in the country of her birth. Australians were less inclined to believe in the Avengers, despite the footage of Loki’s attack on New York that had swamped the media. Some insisted it had been a terrorist attack, others perceived it as a fear rousing campaign on behalf of the US government. Sworn to confidentiality, Alex was unable to vouch for the legitimacy of the attack, even when those questioning it were members of her own family.

“This is everything?” Thor gestured to the small pile of personal belongings she had gathered in the centre of the room. Placing Mjolnir on the plush Persian rug, Thor grabbed the handle of the nearest hiking pack, hoisting it on his shoulder with ease. Alex gaped, knowing full well that the bag in question was brimming with a year’s supply of books. She had barely been able to carry it. Several S.H.I.E.L.D agents grabbed the rest of the bags, dragging them from the apartment toward three thoroughly conspicuous-looking black vehicles. They would be driving to a local reserve, Tibdinbilla, to make the final journey back to Asgard. 

Once the bags were removed, Alex shot one last look around her apartment. It was not as though she was particularly attached to the place. In the past two years, she had returned to its embrace only a few times, during her brief periods of leave. Yet, it remained the same as when she had first moved in. The pub across the road was still ridiculously noisy, even late on a Sunday night. The blinds still failed to block out the piercing rays of the morning sun, so similar in hue to that which spilled through her windows in Asgard. 

The drive to Tibdinbilla proved to be quite entertaining, the S.H.I.E.L.D drivers failing to keep their cool when faced with Canberra’s excessive number of roundabouts. Even the mighty Thor was looking a little green when they pulled into the car park. The sun was just beginning to set over the sea of spindling gum trees and tallow grass. Thor almost jumped with excitement as his pale eyes fell upon the dusky grey figure of a kangaroo. 

“Jumping beasts! What wonder is this?”

Alex snorted. “They are called kangaroos, Thor.”

Despite the fact he was carrying the book bag again, as well as several gym bags and Mjolnir, Thor stalked one of the animals, eyes wide. “Are they good for eating?”

“Apparently,” Alex shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

Thor’s face split into a grin. “I will bring one of these beasts home for father!”

“There is no time, sir,” came the calculated drawl from one of the agents. Even from this angle, Alex could see the grin on Thor’s face morph into the frown of a petulant child. Nevertheless, he followed Alex and the agents into the dense scrub.

Their final destination was an open clearing, miles from anywhere. The reserve had been closed by S.H.I.E.L.D, but they technically could not stop tourists from walking into the area. The bags Alex would be carrying were placed next to Thor, but before she could gather them, a hand cupped her shoulder.

“Alexandra, come with me.”

Alex frowned, but followed Lucas to a large smooth barked gum. 

“You have been ignoring me, I think.” His tanned fingers brushed against her jaw, causing her to recoil. 

“I haven’t,” she lied, trying to imbue her voice with innocence. “I have been very busy.”

It sounded pathetic even to her ears.

A cruel smirk flicked across Lucas’ lips. “Don’t forget, my Alexandra. I made you and I can break you.”

“Is that a threat?” _Of course it was_. “I work for Fury now.”

“ _Now_ ,” sneered Lucas. “But in a year you will be working for _me_. Don’t think I will put up with this kind of insolence at Geraldine.” His voice was now so low that she could barely hear him. “And if I find out you have been spreading your legs for some primped up Asgardian cunt, I will _kill_ you.”

With a false smile, he moved away, leading her back to the transport site.

oOoOoOo

Asgard had changed little in the three weeks she had been absent. The observatory, while no longer being a skeleton, was far from complete. Heimdall was so still, it appeared as though he had not moved in the days she had been absent. Knowing Heimdall, he probably hadn’t. The journey across the Rainbow Bridge struck Alex as more terrifying than usual, though she was unsure as to whether this was because she was shaken up, or merely the fact that the bags threw off her body’s balance.

Thor seemed strangely talkative on the way to her chambers, booming merrily about how he, Sif and the Warriors Three would hunt many kangaroos for his wedding feast. Alex had never met Jane Foster, but suspected the astrophysicist had a very interesting life ahead of her. Smiling at her companion’s train of thought, as well as the mental image of the five Asgardians stalking kangaroos in the Australian outback, Alex shot a quick glance toward the courtyard. The sun was still high and even from this distance she could see the kneeling figure of the God of Mischief.

She wondered if he would visit her that night.

The thought filled her with a heady mixture of both dread and excitement. Her mind wandered to his words... _I intend to take you in every conceivable way. I will take my time, coming to you every single night, dragging it on until the only thought in that pretty little head of yours is me_. Even tainted by her memory, this statement made her shudder.  
Her reaction to Loki remained even now a contradiction. On the one hand, she loathed him for his possessive stance. In this way he reminded her so much of Lucas Malory, of every other man who sought to control her. At the same time, she felt as though Loki, of all the men in her life, was the one who could get away with it the most. After all, he had been brought up to think himself a god.

She knew the justifications for her conflict were pathetic. Everything about Loki and his sexual attachment to her was unhealthy. 

Upon reaching the vast doors leading into Odin’s palace, Alex and Thor were relieved of the bags by a large group of servants. Their apologetic tone and stance signified that they were meant to meet the two travellers at the observatory. Evidently, Thor and Alex had returned earlier than expected.

They entered Alex’s chambers just as the servants were depositing the bags. To Thor, nothing was amiss, but Alex’s eyes widened. _Someone_ had been there. A random selection of her beautifully organised books was piled up on the bedside cabinet, a few of her personal belongings returned to the wrong place. Loki would of course _know_ she would pick up on these changes, but Alex suspected this was his intention. Why bother hiding his presence when it would cause her so much discomfort?

As Thor departed, shouting something about a celebration, Alex headed toward the misplaced books. 

“Loki, you creepy bastard,” she hissed under her breath.

oOoOoOo

The celebrations that evening were more rambunctious than Alex remembered. Fandral had invited almost every single woman of the court, most of which seemed quite pleased to help him out with his overpowering sexual need. While this had the power to be quite disturbing, Alex remained bemused. Volstagg was his usual chipper self, lingering around the buffet table with an enormous leg of mutton in one hand, a tankard of Asgardian ale in the other.

Like usual, Alex found herself seeking out the company of Sif, who handed her a rapier before even a word could be spoken. 

“I hope you have not grown rusty in your absence,” the warrior smirked.

Alex rolled her eyes. “I was rusty anyway, Sif. I’m pretty sure three weeks is hardly going to make a difference.”

It was good to fight again. Her stay away had hardly been a relaxing one. Most of it had been spent at the Geraldine campsite pretending to work, while actually trying to escape the prying eyes (and hands) of Lucas. The remainder had been spent catching up with friends and family. Throughout that time, she had yearned for a sparring partner.

While they fought, Alex idly wondered how Loki had blended into the social life of Thor and his friends. She knew he had a reputation with the ladies, though those who had experienced his touch were unlikely to discuss it. Loki, like Frost Giants and vegetarians, had no place in Asgardian conversation. She pictured him a little like Fandral: his silver tongue lifting the skirts of the courts finest maidens. Then there was the lone intellect, sitting in the corner watching everything unfold around him. Loki’s life before his invasion of Earth was an enigma to Alex, a mystery she suspected she would never solve.

The only thing she knew for certain was that Loki would be in her bedroom when she returned.

The muscles in her wrist screamed with pain as she turned the handle to her chamber door. Sif had been a little harder than usual, clearly ascertaining whether her sparring partner had indeed gone soft. The room itself was bathed in a warm glow, the lanterns lit around the walls, a lamp burning on the bedside table. Reclined against her pillows was Loki, his face hidden behind one of Alex’s more lurid books. 

“You have returned.”

It was as though his voice was a physical presence, brushing over her body. She could feel herself responding, and felt a twang of self-loathing because of it. It certainly did not help that the God of Mischief had forgone his armour for a simple pair of breeches. His bared chest, on show throughout the day, seemed infinitesimally more alluring at night. 

“How observant of you.” 

Her words caused him to smirk, placing the shameless book on her bedside cabinet. A smooth movement was all it took for him to remove himself from the bed. Whether it was the smut, or her arrival, his arousal was evident beneath the thin material of his pants. “Remove your clothing.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You are intelligent woman, Agent Beckett, I am sure you are capable of obeying such a simple order.”

“I have been away for three weeks and all you can say is-”

“Do not tell me you expected flowers and, what do you mortals call them? _chocolates_.” A malicious grin crossed his lips. “You have kept me waiting, little mortal. So either you can remove your own clothing, or I will rip them from you.”

As appealing as the latter option was, Alex was less inclined to lose yet another dress to Loki’s rough fingers. Slowly, she lowered the straps of her dress, leaving her in naught but a plain bra and knickers. His gaze seemed to penetrate her, consuming every inch of bare flesh she revealed. It was intoxicating and intimidating in equal measure. Three weeks had evidently allowed her to regain some of her shame.

Her underwear soon joined the dress on the floor. Alex watched entranced as Loki stepped out of his breeches. Though she found him irresistible in his armour, this was nothing compared to seeing him literally in the flesh. Every inch of him looked as though it had been carved by a renaissance artist, and a perverted renaissance artist at that. Though only semi-erect, his cock was magnificent. Alex once against felt the heat of a blush caress her skin. 

Long fingers wrapped around her arm, dragging her toward him. His lips claimed hers briefly, tongue gliding across her teeth before he pulled away, pushing her onto the slightly ruffled overlay of her bed. 

“You surprise me, mortal,” he murmured, lifting one of her legs and kissing her ankle. “You pretend to be defiant, yet your choice of reading material shows that you _crave_ subjugation.” 

“I read _other_ things,” she stammered, slightly angrily, as his lips moved up her calf, lingering on the soft skin under her knee. He chuckled, kissing his way further up her thigh, spreading her legs while he did so. 

“Your latest acquisitions prove otherwise. Tell me, Alexandra, what exactly is a _haven of obedience_?” 

Alex’s reply was swallowed by a groan, Loki’s tongue brushing across the length of her slit. With both thumbs, he separated her further, caressing every inch of her exposed flesh, while notably ignoring the hardening nub of her clitoris. 

“It is a unique concept,” Loki hummed against her sex. “I feel you would benefit from such a place.” 

She wanted to tell him to shut up, but his tongue now slid within her, causing the insult to morph into a gasp. Her fingers curled in his hair, urging him to continue. When his lips finally blessed her clit with an embrace, she almost screamed. His tongue, his lips, and the brush of his nose against exposed flesh – it was too much. She came suddenly, violently, almost ripping his raven locks from his scalp as she did so. He chuckled, the tremor torturing her sensitive flesh.

She would have been content at that moment to relax, but Loki had other ideas, lifting her from the bed and depositing her onto the floor.

“Kneel.”


	7. Your Natural State

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a comment that Loki makes in regards to Alex's teeth in this chapter that still makes me giggle like a gossipy schoolgirl, despite the fact I wrote it. I'm convinced if he said this to me, I would fall on the floor in fits of giggles, making him even more furious. And we all know what furious Loki means!

****

**Chapter Seven  
Your Natural State**

The little chit was an absolute delight. Even now, as she struggled from her ungainly position on the floor Loki could see the spark of defiance in her eyes. The realisation of what he was asking her to do brought a downward tilt to her lips, a dark slash of disgust. In the past, he had perceived only fear in the eyes of the mortal women he bedded. As he broke them, a quick and sordid affair, their fear would morph to desperation. They would beg for him, yearn for the brush of his fingertips against their sensitised flesh, but by that stage he found them tedious. Some, he sent back to Midgard, others he left lingering around the palace for another man to acquire.

But Alexandra Beckett was anything but broken. Perhaps a little desperate, even a little scared, but definitely not broken. She provided a challenge, one he could not wait to fully exploit.

“I said, _kneel_.”

His smile returned as the mortal did as commanded, heaving her heavy limbs off the rug and into the subservient position. The stiffness of her back, the stance of her shoulders, revealed that this was a position she loathed. The resentment seemed to stream off her body. 

“I have given you your pleasure, Agent Beckett, now it is time for you to return the favour.” Slowly he threaded the fingers of his right hand into her tallow locks, his other hand flat against the back of her head. Even as she dragged her lips toward the waiting jut of his cock, the mortal resisted. “I think you know what to do, little one.”

Grey eyes looked up, boring into his green. “My teeth and your masculinity might not exactly be the best idea,” she hissed, “if you get my drift.”

Loki snorted. “Your teeth would break before they pierced the skin.” 

“You self indulgent-!”

Loki cut her off, pushing her mouth against the swollen head of his erection. “I suggest you do as you are commanded, Agent Beckett.”

oOoOoOo

Alex found herself instantly conflicted. On the one hand, she was humiliated that Loki was enforcing the act upon her without allowing her to initiate it. On the other hand, the forceful thrust of his erection against her lips caused every nerve in her body to thrum.

_You are a damned whore, Alexandra Beckett._

Chancing a final glance at his face, Alex brought her fingers up to grasp his hips, softening the embrace of her lips against his head. Slowly, she dotted the underside of his length with feather light kisses, causing a hiss to escape his lips. Applying the same feather light embrace to his testicles, she drew one of her hands down to cup the sensitive sac, massaging them lightly as her kisses turned to well-tuned licks, tasting every square inch of him.

“Just suck it, damn you.”

Alex chuckled against his base, well aware now that she had a vestige of control. “You need to be patient, my prince.”

“I am a damned god, you foolish girl!”

Exhilarated by the desperation now evident in his voice, she drew the tip of his cock into her mouth, circling the head with her tongue while her thumb and forefinger ran along the remaining length. The fingers curled in her hair tightened, wrenching tears from her eyes. Nonetheless, she continued, drawing more of him in. Ignoring the reflex to gag she grabbed his arse as he rhythmically thrust into her mouth, humming against his quivering length. He came loudly, _very_ loudly, spilling into her eager mouth as she swallowed every last drop.

oOoOoOo

Seven books clutched in her hands, Alex shot a glance toward the naked figure sprawled on her bed. He was doing it to taunt her, knowing full well that the necessary task of unpacking would soon fall secondary to whatever he had planned for her. Once more he was reading smut, but as he had not turned the page in ten minutes, it was clear he was using the book as a decoy. What drew her gaze though was not the book, but rather the location of his second hand, wrapped tight around his length.  
“Having fun?”

His gaze moved from the page. “It is not the first time I have done so.”

Placing the jumbled mess of Shakespeare and Fitzgerald on her desk, Alex turned on him, eyes wide. “You’re telling me you-?”

He only smiled.

“What? Loki! No! That’s just plain wrong! You don’t do that kind of thing in someone else’s bed.”

“You seem to be enjoying it.”

_“Because I’m watching.”_

Loki snorted. “Would you have me believe that you did not spend the last three weeks with your fingers between your thighs thinking of me?”

“I didn't do it in your bed!”

The god of mischief discarded the book. “Come here.”

“No, I will not.”

“Your defiance, little mortal, grows tiresome. Come.”

Resigning to the fact that her belongings would not find homes until the following day, Alex fell onto the bed. Loki’s lips immediately found her neck, tracing a path from jaw to collarbone. She shuddered. “I would like you see you make yourself come for me, Alexandra.” The words, murmured against her flesh, caused a vivid blush to taint her cheeks. “ _Especially_ in my own bed.”

He did not allow her a retort, instead dragging her up the ruffled mattress toward the pillows. His cock was taut against her thighs, and she squeezed herself around him. The gasp against her flesh was intoxicating, as were his lips when finally they crashed upon hers. Long, thin fingers played delicately against her clit as he thrust, burying himself with her in one smooth movement. His pace was slow, deliberate, her fingernails scoring the perfect pale flesh of his lower back. 

It was moments like these that Alex could wipe ramifications from her mind, forget that the man she was with was a misogynistic pig who was only interested in what lay between her legs. True, he was far more skilled than the other men who had treated her in a similar fashion. For a few fleeting minutes he made her feel like the princesses she read about in fairy-tales (if fairytales were filled with smut, that is). Yet at the end of the day, was he any different to Lucas Malory?

Alex suspected not.


	8. Private and Public

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you will already know this as "The Library Scene". One of my favourites. Not quite as delicious as the exhibitionism of chapter eighteen though.

**Chapter Eight  
Private and Public**

It was a relatively nondescript manila folder: sturdy, grey, a large red “CONFIDENTIAL” stamped across the front. The thick wodge of papers had been stuffed into the depths of her clothing bag, planted amongst her collection of underwear. Apprehensively, she picked it up, detaching a rogue pair of red lace knickers than hung off one corner of the folder. It was peculiar to say the least. It was obviously placed there by a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, though she could not remember a time frame in which they would have been able to do so. She and Thor had been present throughout the journey to the transfer site.

Furthermore, why had they opted for the good old fashioned paper option?

No doubt they did not want a high-tech Stark folder loose in Asgard. Paper could, at least, be burnt. 

What disturbed her the most, however, was not the fact that a S.H.I.E.L.D agent had been poking around her undies, but rather that the folder had been _opened_. The bindings keeping all the material within the cardboard containment had been cut. Whoever it was had not even bothered to hide their tracks.

_Loki._

Alex sat upon the edge of her tangled bed, attempting to ignore the aching pain in her thighs and groin. In the past, her trysts with Loki had been short and sharp, but the night before he had been leisurely with his time. She was surprised she could actually walk. 

Resting the manila folder on her shaking knees, Alex started to read. Most of the paper was blank, but for three sheets imbedded within the mass. Orders from S.H.I.E.L.D. Of course, she suspected there would additional reasoning behind her prolonged stay in Asgard. They were hardly going to pay her a premium wage to babysit a prisoner for a year. But _spying_? Spying on Odin and Thor, no less? Even the thought of it made her feel sick with guilt. It was the All-Father himself that allowed her to live within the citadel, in pretty swanky chambers too. Lucas had mentioned vaguely that Fury did not entirely trust Thor, that the Asgardians were considered a minor threat, but to send an agent to infiltrate them seemed a touch extreme. Surely Thor’s actions as part of the Avengers was evidence enough of his loyalties?

Alex read the three pages several more times before tipping the folder into the smouldering embers of the hearth. The papers exploded in flame, consumed in seconds. Not that it really mattered. The papers had been read. Loki knew everything. The question was: _what_ would he do about it?

oOoOoOo

For the remaining daylight hours, Alex found herself coming to terms with the fact that she would spend the next three-hundred and sixty-five days in Asgard. During her first visit, she had not strayed far. She believed her time to be limited, and as such refused to get too attached to the place. But now... now all of Asgard was at her fingertips. Museums, halls of science, libraries, healing houses, villages, mountain ranges, gardens. She could see it all from the height of her balcony, but now she would be able to touch it, to feel it, to _live_ it. If it had not been for the Loki-shaped storm cloud that hung over her head, Alex felt as though she could have been akin to a kid in a candy store. Even if he did go to Odin, who was to say the All-Father would care? Would the All-Father actually take note of his youngest son, or would he ignore him like every other Asgardian?

But while faces could be unseen, words could not be unheard.

Slipping into her uniform, Alex finally left her room, satisfied that her belongings were assigned to the right places, her bed thoroughly made. Her destination was the palace library, one of the few locations she _had_ visited on her previous trip. Most of the books were ancient, scribed in the most indecipherable dialects of Asgard, but Alex simply enjoyed their company. In some, she could make out a few familiar words. Others were even enchanted to translate themselves into the language of the reader. At first his had been alarming, but magic was part of life in Asgard. The citadel hummed with it. 

“Lady Alex!”

Alex turned, to find Thor stomping up behind her. He was devoid of his usual armour, his muscular physique covered by loose fitting slacks and an open shirt. A thin sheen of sweat covered the exposed skin, and by the way he clutched Mjolnir it was clear he had been sparring.

Thor smiled. “I trust you have settled in?”

Alex’s returning smile faltered a little at the thought of the manila folder. She nodded.

“Excellent.” Thor wrapped his arm around her shoulders, leading her down the hall. “I have a favour to ask of you.”

Under usual circumstances, Alex may have retorted with a lewd quip, but Thor would never understand. As such, she settled for: “Sure.”

“In three of your Midgardian weeks, my Jane will be joining us in Asgard.” Not even the mighty Thor could hide the nerves in his voice. “I am afraid she will be daunted.”

Alex smirked, holding back a bark of laughter. “I suspect you might be right,” she replied diplomatically. Daunted, indeed. She had never met the astrophysicist, but it sounded as though the most rebellious Jane Foster ever got was the occasional tipple of wine. Drunken Asgardians, public debauchery and Thor’s very own brother tied and mutilated in the courtyard was bound to be more than simply _daunting_.

Thor’s discomfort became even more apparent. “I feel her _integration_ into my world might be made easier if she had someone to – how do you Midgardians put it? – show her the ropes?”

Well that made sense. “You want me to be her guide?”

“Her _friend._ ”

“She is bringing no one with her?”

“She will be accompanied by Lady Darcy and Eric Selvig.”

“I see.” Alex stopped outside the library. “I’ll be happy to show Jane round.”

Thor’s smile returned with gusto. “Thank you Lady Alex. This means a great deal to me.” 

“Its fine,” Alex shrugged. “But Thor-!” The God of Thunder turned around, having already stormed half way down the corridor. “You may just want to tell Fandral to tone it down a little. Jane might not appreciate watching him impregnate the servants.”

oOoOoOo

Alex spent most of the afternoon exploring the cavernous depths of the library; climbing the spindly ladders that lead to the highest shelves, attempting to find the most obscure titles. At one stage she even encountered the library’s stash of printed pornography, each lewd text beautifully presented in the finest wrought leather. Despite the fact she was hoisted on a ladder at least six metres off the ground, Alex could not help examining some of the texts. It seemed as though no stone was left unturned in the sexual lives of Asgardians. There were tomes full of prints, depicting ways in which a woman or man could pleasure themselves. Her personal favourite showed sexual acts done under the duress of magic. She wondered if Loki partook in some of these acts before his power was snatched away.

Of course he did. 

Taking as many of the books as she could in the crook of one arm, Alex lowered herself down the ladder. It was imperative that she did not drop a single book. To do so would alert the ire of the librarian. While she got on relatively well with the age-worn Tanith, the prospect of him catching her with an armful of obscenity was anything but appealing. 

Reaching the ground in safety, she located a bay window lodged between the shelves on Midgardian herbs and those with dusty tomes about Jotunn history. The window was several stories high, looking out onto the courtyard in which Loki was imprisoned. He was naught but a fleck from this height, but she could still see the contrast of pale skin to pitch hair. 

It was in this position that he found her, hours later.

Alex did not know when sleep had consumed her. The sun had still been bright when her eyelids had flittered down, and the prisoner perched at the end of the bay certainly had not been there. The expression on Loki’s face epitomised bemused, long fingers caressing the pages of one of her books. 

“You have a unique taste in _literature_ , little Midgardian.” He gestured to the book. “I remember being very fond of this one when I was an adolescent.”

Alex frowned. “Why does that not surprise me?”

Loki flicked through a few pages. She could not help but watch the flick of his eyes as they took in everything on the page. Every so often, his tongue would gently run across his lips. It took every iota of self control she had not to replace it with her own. Loki finally stopped at a page, showing it to her. It depicted a stunning Asgardian couple engaging in a position she imagined could only be achieved by Olympic gymnasts. 

“I believe you would enjoy this.” Loki smirked, placing the open book on the windowsill before briefly capturing her lips with his own. 

Alex licked her lips, savouring his taste before looking back at the drawing. “I would not be able to walk for... well, _ever_.”

Loki’s long fingers were now slipping up her thighs, one hand pressing against her groin. “We shall have to make you more _limber_ then.” Green eyes glinted, before he kissed her once more. This kiss lacked the unprecedented softness of its predecessor, his tongue forcing through her lips, running along closed teeth until she allowed him entrance. His body drew up against hers; hips nestled between her open thighs. She could not help but to grind herself against him, loathing instantly the barrier of her uniform and his cotton pants.

“You _are_ a little slut, this evening,” he hummed against her lips, before moving away to lay a line of kisses across her jaw. She shivered as his tongue brushed the shell of her ear, teeth momentarily grasping her lobe. 

“Not in the library,” she mewled when finally her voice returned. Loki responded with a bark of laughter.

“Tanith will not see us. You forget; he is forbidden to acknowledge my existence.”

Alex whined. “Still...”

“Silence, little one.” Loki’s slowly unzipped the fly of her tight pants, dragging the thin material over her hips, scowling at the blood red lace knickers she had chosen to wear. Unlike the pants, which were merely removed from one leg to hang from the other, this scrap of lace was torn away. 

“They were my favourite-!”

“What did I say about being silent, Alexandra?” Long, cold fingers dipped within her waiting sex, circling her clit with feather light touches, as the other hand undid the ties of his pants. Flailing around with her own fingers, Alex pushed the material down over his arse, trying to draw him closer to her.

“Patience.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” she hissed, wrapping one hand around his cock. Loki obeyed, slamming into her in one thrust. Books slipped from the seat, landing on the floor with a crash but Alex did not care, wrapping her legs tightly around his thighs. With every thrust he drew deeper, finally wrangling from her a climax muffled into the velvet cushions of the bay seat. Several jagged thrusts later; he followed, burying his face in the crook of her neck. 

How long they lay there, Alex did not know. What she did know, however, was that the crashing books and Loki’s less than quiet moans would have drawn the attention of Tanith. 

“The bedroom,” she whispered. Loki nodded, slowly drawing his limp self out of her. Alex grabbed the remains of her knickers, wiping his essence from her thighs before donning her pants.

oOoOoOo

“I notice you do not complain.”

Alex glanced down at the head buried between her thighs, unable to move her shaking legs from around his shoulders. Gently, Loki slipped from her leg-lock, licking his lips while wiping his chin on the sheets. 

“I can’t be arsed.”

Loki laughed. “You lie, little one. You are attempting to appease me.”

“You are an idiot. Why would I need to appease you?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Loki drew his body up beside hers, cock hard against her hip. He hissed slightly as she brushed against his weeping head with her thumb. “Perhaps it has something to do with a certain _folder_?”

Alex’s fingers tightened around him. “I don’t know what you are talking about?”

Loki pried her fingers from his length. “Of course not. I wonder how my _father_ and _brother_ would feel about having a spy in their midst?”

“If you tell them-!” Alex’s storm eyes met his briefly. 

“You will what? Squeeze my cock?” Loki smirked, continuing her previous ministrations with his own hand. “My foolish Alex, what would I gain from telling them? Besides, you forget, they are sworn not to see me.”

“But-”

“No buts, Alexandra.” He snatched her wrist, leading her fingers back toward his groin. “I wish for you to use your hands, but if you utter a word, I will fuck your mouth. Do you understand?”

“But-”

“I said: _no buts_.”


	9. Many Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut in this chapter, but some rather interesting plot points. Yes, that's right... PLOT! I am ashamed, I really am.

**Chapter Nine  
Many Meetings**

The painting was a riot of colour: rich scarlets blending into luxurious blues, warm yellows and striking greys. It depicted a dance of violence, a conflict long passed into myth and legend. When she had decided to visit the great art gallery of the Asgardian citadel, Alex had almost expected to see rough hewn inscriptions of a Viking nature. She did not expect neo-classical murals stretching across metres of wall space. Each paint stroke was deliberate, each dot of colour adding depth to the already glorious scene. Of the neat Asgardian runes at its base, Alex could pick only four words: Battle. Glorious. Odin. Laufey.

_Laufey._ If the rumours were true (and she had not the courage to ask) the cobalt hued beast of a ‘man’ depicted in the mural was Loki’s _father_. The residents of Asgard called him a _monster_ , but Alex could not help but feel that this was a judgement made in the aftermath of war. Laufey had attacked Midgard, but not before the Asgardian forces had threatened the outer reaches of Jotunn territory. He was a king doing what he thought best for his people.

No, the true _monster_ was Loki. 

Alex moved away from the mural, her heeled work-issue boots clicking against the polished boards of the floor. Like all architecture close to Odin’s palace, the art gallery was a gaudy structure wrought of gold. High arches spanned the ceiling, in dispersed by windows that allowed the golden sun to illuminate the paintings within. Often she would ponder what her people would do if they were to visit Asgard. Gold was such a rare commodity on Midgard. She remembered hearing that it was formed in the final moments of a star’s life: more specifically, a red giant. In all of human history, the earth had surrendered only enough gold to fill three Olympic swimming pools. Three times that amount would have been used to construct the art gallery alone.

No, it was probably best that the wider population of Midgard never found out about Asgard. Immortal or not, the population of the eternal realm would never be able to withstand an attack from the resource hungry armies of Earth.

Stepping beneath a lumbering archway decorated with vines of gold and silver, Alex found herself in the hall housing the portraits of the royal family. The paintings themselves were monumental, easily several metres high. Odin was central, flanked by equally as stunning depictions of Frigga and Thor. They were a family as golden as the walls upon which their portraits were hung, yet Alex could not help but let her gaze linger on the empty patch of wall by Thor’s side. Another monolithic painting leaned against this wall, a simple white sheet hiding its subject.

“My husband believes it is for the best, but it pains me to see my son covered.”

Alex gasped audibly, turning on her heel. She had had very little contact with the queen, yet now here she stood, resplendent in a simple gown of white. Awkwardly she knelt, but Frigga held up her hand. “You do not need to kneel before me, Agent Beckett.”

Alex almost cocked an eyebrow. _A sentiment not shared by your son, your majesty_. Nevertheless, she nodded. Frigga was a woman who demanded reverence, whether she asked for it or not. The queen swept across the hall, drawing the sheet away from the discarded portrait. Even in portrait form, Loki stood apart from his adoptive family. He had been painted in full armour, the gold of his horned helm a prominent feature. But what drew Alex’s gaze was the glint in his green eyes, the mischievous grin curling his lips. This was a painting of the God of Mischief, not the traitor prince, the enemy of Midgard, the son of _Laufey_.

“An image captured during lighter times,” the queen reflected sadly. There were tears glinting in her pale eyes, and had she been anyone but the queen, Alex would have draped an arm around her shoulder in comfort. 

Alex found she was unable to look away. “He looks so _young_.”

“The past year has aged my son a thousand cycles. He was always one for trouble, but...”

“Now he is a murderous psychopath?” Alex was not exactly sure what made her say this. It was foolish, not to mention downright disrespectful. Oddly enough, the look Frigga gave her was not one of anger, but rather something Alex could not quite pinpoint.

“We all do things we come to regret, Alexandra.”

Alex felt the colour drain from her face. How could nine words say so much? The queen _knew_. How could she _know_? As though reading Alex’s mind, Frigga shot her a soft smile.

“I frequently visit the palace library in the evening. I find you often see more than you expect.”

“But-”

“The All-Father has decreed that none shall see Loki, but once something is seen it cannot be unseen. In the end, it is a _choice_ we make.” Frigga’s fingers weaved within Alex’s, a strangely comforting gesture. “My son always likes to think he is in control, Alexandra, but remember it is you who holds the power here.”

Her words were unexpected, and Alex found she was unable to reply. It was a two pronged warning. On the one hand, the queen was warning her of the dangers of getting too involved with Loki. This Alex already knew. The other was the most profound: a clear, motherly shriek of _do not hurt my son_! 

The queen moved away, heading back toward the archway. 

“You will not tell Thor? The All-Father?”

Frigga turned, the eerie smile still on her face. “I do not believe they would be as understanding as I,” she nodded. “I will leave this up to you.”

And with that she was gone.

oOoOoOo

_It is you who holds the power here._

As Alexandra continued her exploration of the art gallery, she could not help but reflect upon the queen’s words. Power was not usually a word she associated with herself. It was not that she was a weak-willed hussy who allowed others to control every iota of her life. She had always grappled to maintain an inkling of independence. But on a similar note: the most important aspects of her life had been dictated by someone else.

Lucas Malory had used a promotion to control her.

Her father used his influence to make sure she studied law, rather than fine arts.

Her mission to Asgard, while a result of these manipulations, was one of the few things she felt she truly achieved on her own. It was _she_ who impressed Nick Fury, _she_ who had gained the respect of the royal family enough to be allowed accommodation for a year. True enough, Fury wanted her to act as spy, but not under the duress of family influence or because he wanted her in his bed.

This is where Frigga’s words seemed to come unstuck to Alex. Any power she gained through her new found freedom in Asgard was _compromised_ by Loki. He held something over her head and he _used_ it. He was her father, her brothers, her lovers and Malory all rolled into one handsome package. How did _she_ have the power? 

Pushing this thought aside, Alex shot a timid wave toward the terrifyingly stern curator, before venturing into the Asgardian heat. Her mind wandered longingly toward the thin, comfortable gowns provided for her by the royal family, but she knew she had to remain in uniform. It would not do to introduce herself to Jane Foster looking as though she were turning native. The woman may be on the outside, but she and Eric Selvig were still employees of S.H.I.E.L.D. In a sense, Alex was a little nervous about meeting Jane. Not because the woman intimidated her, but rather because if Thor’s wishes came true, she would be the future queen of Asgard. The nerves were not necessarily for herself, but rather for the unsuspecting woman who would be arriving at the observatory within the next thirty minutes.

Alex met Thor at the stables. The prince, despite his regal armour, looked as fresh as a green warrior, faced with his first battle. Periwinkle eyes were wide, lips pressed in a straight line.

“You’ll be right,” Alex smiled, hoping that the archetypal Australian statement would calm Thor’s nerves a little. He did not smile, but nodded, mounting his horse with ease. Alex was mildly terrified of the steed she was presented with, a huge black beast by the name of Arthuros. According to the stable hand, Arthuros had once belonged to Loki, and Alex had been the first he had taken a liking to since Loki’s punishment.

_Like horse like rider_ , Alex thought idly, trying to ignore the niggling feeling that Arthuros might throw her into the surging seas below the rainbow bridge. She had ridden the horse a handful of times around Asgard, but there was just something about the bridge that put her on edge.

Thor, as though noting her apprehension shot her a light look. “You’ll be right.”

The ride to the observatory lacked drama. Arthuros, it appeared, truly did like her and did not wish to be responsible for her imminent death. Both horses returned riderless, for the entourage would make their way back to the palace by foot.

The past three weeks had seen a great deal of change to the observatory. The capsule enclosing the Tesseract had been rendered into something Heimdall was capable of using. The once skeletal structure was now clad in glass and steel.

Alex could not help but gasp as the Tesseract opened the gateway to the rainbow bridge. It was more beautiful than she ever could have imagined, yet another example of how the Asgardians managed to mingle functionality with aesthetics. Within seconds, a clump of people appeared in the flashing globules of light.

She recognised Eric Selvig instantly, having been present at his interrogation after Loki’s short-lived reign on earth. The man looked healthier than he had then, his pale hair thicker, cheeks plumper. She shot him a smile, only to be almost knocked down by a tall, slim brunette who jumped immediately into Thor’s arms.

The shorter brunette at Selvig’s side snorted. “Well, _that’s_ awkward.”

Selvig merely smiled, holding his hand out to Alex. “It is nice to see you again, Agent Beckett. This,” he pointed with his thumb, “is Darcy Lewis.”

“Which she couldn’t figure out for herself by the fact that I am not currently eating Thor’s face.” Darcy held out her hand too, and Alex could not help but smile as she shook it. Despite the younger woman’s affinity for ill-fitting clothing, Alex could not help but notice that she was ridiculously pretty. As was Jane Foster, who had finally let go of Thor.

“Sorry about that,” the astrophysicist said sheepishly, “I am not usually that rude.” She held out her hand. “You must be Alex Beckett. Thor has told me so much about you.”

“He has?” 

Thor nodded happily, leading the group out of the observatory. Darcy gaped at the gold-clad figure of Heimdall, gaping more as her periwinkle eyes fell on Asgard.

“Fuck me, that is a lot of gold.”

Alex snorted. “Pretty much my reaction when I first came here.”

“Seriously? Is _everything_ here gold? I mean, are the toilets gold?” Darcy’s train of thought was evidently travelling a thousand kilometres per minute. “They do have toilets here right? I mean, do Asgardians need to pee? We don’t have to carry everything home in a little bag, do we, like when you go camping?”

Alex was now laughing. “Yeah, they have toilets... and yes, they are made of gold. It’s awkward at first, but you get over it.”

“Do you think they’ll mind if I souvenir a toilet sea-”

“Darcy!” Selvig’s voice cut over the roar of the waves below. Darcy shrugged sheepishly, eyes wide as she observed the surroundings. 

“Shit me! This bridge is, like, completely neon!”

Before Selvig could interject with another strained “Darcy”, Alex leant closer to the young brunette. “I’ll bring you back here tonight. If you lie on the bridge you can feel the light moving inside.”

Darcy grinned. “Awesome.”

The group moved along the bridge in relatively silence after this, occasionally broken by one of Darcy’s broad observations. Alex allowed her mind to wander back to the last time she had lain on the bridge, the first time Loki had come to her. She wondered momentarily if he would have done so had she not been present on the bridge. Was it a completely random meeting, or had he intentionally sought her out? 

“So, tour guide. As part of our tour, do we get to see Thor’s bro?” Darcy asked as they reached the base of the bridge. 

Alex frowned. “His bro?”

“ _Loki_. Is it true that his lips are sewn shut? That shit’s brutal.”

“Yup. We actually have to walk through his courtyard to get to the palace.” Alex pointed to the patch of green in the distance. 

“Is he as hot as he is in the pictures?” Darcy appeared to be a relentless question machine. Alex suspected this may have been due to her political science background. Her voice was a low murmur now, no doubt aware that Selvig nurtured some pretty negative feelings toward the God of Mischief. 

Alex shrugged. “He’s very attractive I suppose. Everyone in Asgard is ridiculously hot though.” More than anything she hoped her voice was nonchalant. The last thing she needed was for the notably savvy Darcy to start suspecting something about Alex’s involvement with Loki. Hell, it was bad enough that Frigga knew. 

The courtyard was empty when they arrived. It seemed as though the residents of Asgard had grown tired of the imprisoned prince. There were only so many times one could throw rotten fruit or excrement at a tied man before it became dull. Upon noting the pale figure of Loki, Selvig’s features grew harsh. The glint in his eye made it clear that if he encountered Loki in the corridors, he would not obey Odin’s wish of ignorance. In fact, Alex could imagine the older man seeking Loki out for retribution. 

Even chained with his lips sewn shut, Loki was striking to look upon, a fact evidently not lost on Darcy. “Is it sick that I am kinda turned on by this?” 

Alex smirked. “Wait till you get closer. The smell is enough to turn you off.”

It was clear Loki had heard her, for his eyes narrowed as they walked by.


	10. Dirty

**Chapter Ten  
Dirty**

Their approach was announced by the slight vibrations of the soil beneath his knees, the crackle of leaves against heavy-shod feet. Loki had long since ceased to observe those that entered his courtyard, preferring to train his gaze upon the ground. His days were mapped by the shadows that sprung forth from the stone benches. Sometimes he would even watch as the tiny flowers that dotted his lawn opened to the sun, only to close again as his own momentary freedom beckoned. Boredom no longer plagued him. He was well past it. Time passed in a blur of thought, occasionally broken by the chiding of a passer-by, quickly forgotten as his pale eyes focused on an insect scuttling through the grass or an odd-shaped leaf nestled upon the emerald carpet.

Those that intentionally visited him now were not his enemies, but rather those who enjoyed the opportunity to taunt someone above their station. Troublesome youths barely out of their first century would come in the latest depths of the afternoon. Loki understood this to be some kind of dare. They taunted him, assaulted him with projectiles of a less than pleasant nature, waiting until the sun set. As of yet, none of these brats had lasted until his bonds had broken. 

But Loki did not care. While throttling a foul 120 year old would bring him momentary satisfaction, it would be fleeting. Everything was fleeting, or at least that which took place during the day. His nights remained vivid, all thanks to the pathetic, yet intriguing, little Midgardian that was currently making her way through his prison. The clip of her heels was always distinctive, her movements rarely accentuated by the rustle of a dress. Today she was joined by others, his brother among them.

“Is it sick that I am kinda turned on by this?”

The voice took him somewhat unaware. Unlike the polished tones of the Asgardians, the owner of this voice was lazy with every syllable. The elongation of the “a” revealed her origins to be somewhere within the North American continent, yet Loki had little clue as to where. His sewn lips ached as he attempted to warp them into a smile. Of course. How had he forgotten? This day, Thor’s Midgardian whore and her little entourage had arrived. For the first time in weeks, he allowed his eyes to turn upwards.

The girl who spoke was still gaping at him, plump lips open in a little ‘O’. She was utterly delectable, curvy like his Alexandra, with thick hair that cascaded over petite shoulders. This frame was hidden somewhat by the layers of ungainly Midgardian fabric, but nevertheless he found himself pondering what it would be like to have an addition to his and Alex’s night-time forays. He assumed she was the girl called Darcy, who he had observed only momentarily through the eyes of the Destroyer during his first attack on Midgard.

Eric Selvig was easy enough to recognise: not just because of their acquaintance, but due to the look of pure hatred that twisted his pale face. 

This left the tall, slim and undeniably beautiful Jane Foster. Like Darcy, he had only beheld Jane through the eyes of the Destroyer, yet even from his vantage point on the ground he could see her appeal. As though acknowledging his brother’s gaze, Thor wrapped his arm tighter around Jane’s shoulder. The wounds around Loki’s mouth started to bleed as he attempted to widen his impossible smile.

Alexandra did not even look at him, leaning closer to the curvaceous brunette. “Wait till you get closer. The smell is enough to turn you off.”

The pain dissipated as Loki’s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing. _Bitch. Slut. Quim._ The words may have been meant in jest, but Loki felt teeth of doubt gnawing at the remains of his once mighty ego. The chit was becoming insolent, incorrigibly so. 

This was something he would _not_ tolerate.

oOoOoOo

As the chains fell from his wrists that evening, Loki was well aware that his boiling fury was based on petty vanity. But Loki had always been a vain god. His clothing had ever been immaculate, his hair neatly trimmed. His brother may have been a hulk of blonde masculinity, but Loki knew his own high cheekbones, glinting eyes and smile drew more women to his bed than Thor could ever contemplate. Life in Asgard was notoriously shallow, and Loki knew how to play the shallow prince.

It was for this reason that he boycotted his chambers that evening, venturing straight into the wall-bound passageways. His hair was a mass of grease, his body glistening with sweat, smelling of filth. If she wanted him dirty, he would give her _dirt._

The frivolities made themselves heard long before he came to the banquet hall. Music roared through the walls, the sounds of clanking cutlery, laughter and inane chatter emulated throughout the palace. As a boy, Loki had watched similar parties from the same location, green eyes trained on the tiny peephole in the wall. It was during these peepshows that he saw his first vestiges of debauchery. At these times he had bristled with excitement, barely able to wait for adulthood so he could join in.

Yet now, his own actions rendered him an outsider. He was a parasite within the walls; unwanted, smelling like one of the homeless men he had seen littering the streets of New York.

Compared to the parties he had observed as a boy, this one seemed almost innocent. The king and queen, _his parents_ , were present. All were in their finest, sipping wine from golden goblets while others danced to the energetic tunes. The one known as Darcy Lewis lingered near the buffet table, her luscious figure draped in a pale blue gown of Asgardian silk. At her side was Alexandra, wearing a dress of sunrise yellow. Both were eating healthily of the food, while Volstagg boomed at them, rendering them both in fits of giggles. Loki wanted nothing more than to strangle the rotund warrior. 

Patience was imperative to his plan, yet he found himself in possession of none. He could not reveal himself to those gathered within, though he realised most of them would not even see him. No, he would have to wait until she got close enough to the wall for him to grab her. The fact that she was wearing a dress made everything much easier. There would be little barrier between her and his hands.

oOoOoOo

“...but from what I have heard, our Thor made a fetching bride!” chortled Volstagg through his mouthful of venison. “Even with the beard!”

Alex and Darcy erupted into fits of giggles. Thor in a dress was a mental image hilarious enough even to bring a smile to Director Fury’s face, were he here. It was a splendid party: brimming with honeyed wine, heavy mead, sweets, savouries and jaunty music. Alex had never experienced an Asgardian party like it. It was as though every noble family in the Realm Immortal had made an appearance, dying for a chance to meet the little Midgardian who had snatched away the heart of Thor. Many had not visited Earth for centuries, and stood, fascinated, as Eric, Darcy, Jane and Alex told them of their home world. 

There was another reason Alex was thankful for the large number of people thrust within the hall. Trapped between gyrating, consuming bodies, she could escape from the probing eyes of Frigga. No doubt the queen was waiting for her to make a quick getaway, a silent escape to see her lover. Alex had absolutely no intention of doing so.

It occurred to her, shamefully late, that the arrival of Jane and her entourage gave her the perfect excuse to get away from Loki. He could not possibly take her if she was in the company of others, especially those who would see him.

Even as this thought crossed her mind, she realised it was utterly ridiculous.

As Darcy disappeared toward one of bathrooms that branched from the hall, Alex edged away from the action. In the heat of the hall, even the thin gown seemed stiflingly warm, no doubt made worse by the quantities of honeyed wine in her system. 

Sighing, she leant against a shimmering golden wall. Against her back it was blissfully cold and strangely soft, as though the walls were made of mattresses. She leaned further, only to realise that it was no trick of her alcohol muddled mind. Before her footing could be regained, she was swallowed by the seemingly solid surface. Darkness engulfed her, trapped her. Only a light, yet familiar, chuckle alerted her to the fact she was not alone.

“My, my, little one. How delightful for you to stumble in on my little party.”

Alex touched the wall through which she had fallen, the surface hard once more.

“Loki?”

“Obviously.”

“This is not the place.”

A hand grabbed the front of her dress, dragging her before him. “It is not up to you to decide whether or not this is the place, whore.” Lips covered hers in an unforgiving assault before disappearing. Her body was turned; thrust face first into the opposing wall of what she could only assume was a tunnel. The golden surface was cold here, untouched by any form of light, natural or unnatural. 

“ _Wait till you get closer_ ,” he jibed, hoisting the long skirt of her dress up around her waist. Her knickers were thrust down, his hand colliding with the plump flesh of her arse. _He hit her_! Fear trickled through the jolt of desire raging through her body. 

“Loki...” her voice was pathetic, eliciting a cruel laugh from her attacker.

“The women in your filthy books seem to _like_ this,” – _slap_ – “yet you seem unable to” – _slap_ – “take your punishment” – _slap_ – “like the mewling quim you are.”

As much as she hated it, Alex felt her body responding to the slaps, the pooling heat at her groin. They were not hard, just humiliating, so _damned_ humiliating. 

“ _The smell is enough to turn you off_.” The venom in his voice was undeniable, and Alex whimpered as the head of his cock brushed against her slick entrance. Despite everything, she could not control her body’s natural response, arching into him as he pushed in only a few inches. 

The groan that left her mouth was sordid at best, turning to a little squeal of fear as he moved his cock out, brushing it now against her _other_ entrance.

“No Loki, please don’t.”

“Does the idea of this disgust you as much as my _smell_?” 

She shook her head pathetically, tendrils of hair falling from the neat bun Darcy had constructed earlier. “No, but I’m not... I don’t...”

Loki grabbed her hair, running his tongue along the shell of her ear. “Trust me Alexandra, I will fuck you there soon enough.” Slowly he moved his cock back down, thrusting into her slick, ready depths. “And you will enjoy it. Just as you enjoy having me take you now, in a dirty tunnel, smelling of piss and shit.”

“You don’t...” her voice trailed off. _He didn’t_. He smelt unwashed, but... “I think you are overreacting.”

His thrusts roughened at this point, dragging out of him a loud climax. Long fingers dipped between her thighs, quickly massaging her clit. She came within seconds, his now semi-soft length still within her. 

Eventually he pulled out, turning her back to face him. Lips brushed against her ear. “You are mine, Alexandra. You would do well to treat me with respect.”

A quick kiss was all she got as he left, storming through the tunnel, no doubt toward her chambers.

And then it hit her.

So _this_ was what Frigga meant when she said that Alex had all the power.


	11. Over, Sideways and Under

**Chapter Eleven  
Over, Sideways and Under**

Alex was unsure as to how long she remained secluded within the passageway. The music continued to thrum through the walls, joined occasionally by a smatter of laughter or a rowdy comment. Clearly the mead was flowing freely now, the sensibilities of the Midgardians long forgotten. Yet Alex found herself utterly detached from the frivolities, physically and physiologically. She knew she would have to return to the party, but in her current state, this would be impossible. Loki’s rough embrace had rumpled the fine silk, while her desire mingled with his seed had no doubt left a stain. She imagined her hair to resemble a bird’s nest and no doubt the kohl that darkened her eyes now ran in rivulets down her cheeks.

_Damn you, Loki._

Her emotions toward Loki had always been ambiguous, yet Alex could not mistake the vicious emotion consuming her now. _Fury_. Unadulterated anger. She wanted nothing more than to find him; pummel her fists into his pretty face until he was completely unrecognisable. This desire made her even more furious. Never before had she been prone to thoughts of violence. Damn it, even as an agent she refused to use physical force unless absolutely necessary. 

Finding a vestige of strength in her legs, Alex began her exploration of the tunnels. Her intent was to follow Loki, but this soon failed as she encountered a fork in her path. Glancing through a tiny hole in the side of one, she decided upon her route. Her mind danced with thoughts of her current predicament. Loki had corrupted her. She had never been angelic, but now she had allowed every vestige of self worth to go out the window. Loki had no reputation left and now he was feeding upon hers. The queen’s opinion of her had been shredded, her sleeping patterns destroyed. Now he was stalking her to parties, ruining her dresses and making her violent. 

The assignment to Asgard was everything she had ever wanted, and now Loki was putting it all in danger.

It had to stop. 

Once convinced she was as far from the party as possible, Alex began exploring the internal walls for some kind of hinge or latch that would suggest an opening. Loki no doubt knew every nook and cranny of the citadel intimately, but her own lack of familiarity made Alex apprehensive. After several minutes searching, her fingers fell upon a sharp protuberance in the wall, which she experimentally pulled. Without a sound, the panel fell open.

The corridor was dimly lit by two small fire pits, but fortunately she recognised it. Keeping to the shadows, she ran the rest of the way, finally pausing before the ornate doors of her chambers. He was within, _she knew it_ , and while her resolve was clear, she was entirely unsure as to how she would react. He was easily the most beautiful, the _sexiest_ man she had ever encountered, but physical appearance alone was no excuse.

Her chambers were dark but for a thin line of illumination spilling out from beneath the bathroom door. From within, the light trickle of a running tap could be heard. Biting her lip, she ventured inside. 

“I wondered when you would join me.”

Loki was reclined within the tub of steaming, scented water. One of the golden taps was pouring a steady stream of richly scented bath oils into the mix. Already the God of Mischief’s hair was wet, long pale fingers lathering her shampoo into his scalp. Part of her wanted to do this for him, but she fought the urge. This was no time to lose her nerve.

“Will you not join me? You look a mess.”

She shot him a dark look. “And whose fault is _that_?” Slowly, her arms folded over her chest, a location that Loki’s eyes seemed to be trained. “I want you gone.”

Loki replied with a smirk. “If I had a gold piece for every time you said that...”

“I’m not joking, Loki. I want you to leave me alone.”

“ _Make me._ ”

“Fine!” Alex launched toward the door she had just entered. “I’ll get Thor, shall I? Once he’s seen the state of my dress I doubt he will question my claims that you...”

“I what? Raped you? You have consented every time.” Though Alex had turned, she heard the rushing of water as he stood. Moments later, wet hands wrapped around her arms. His voice was soft when finally he continued. “You are serious?”

She nodded as he turned her once more. His damp body glowed gold in the lantern light, a mixture of their surroundings and his growing tan. Under usual circumstances, his appearance may have been comical, hair and body a mass of scented bubbles, but Alex knew better than to laugh. Grey eyes peered up into his green.

“Why? I was under the impression you enjoyed our liaisons as much as I.”

Her lower lip quivered. “You are putting my job in jeopardy, Loki, and I can’t permit that. I want to stay here, but what do you think they will do once they find out I spend my nights screwing the man who tried to take over my planet? I can’t sleep, my work is sloppy, your mother knows and now you’re ruining parties for me. Can’t you see that this is not healthy, for either of us?”

“The Queen knows?” Loki frowned. “What did she say?”

“She made it clear that she disapproves, but she will not tell the All-Father.” Alex pushed away his arms, moving toward the window. “She is worried about you.”

“Worried about me? Why-?”

“She is afraid that I will hurt you.”

“You hurt me? The woman is evidently becoming deluded in her old age!”

Alex turned swiftly, glaring at the man now sitting on her bed. “The queen is one of your few advocates here in Asgard; I suggest treating her with a little respect.” She paused, allowing her words to sink in. “I _am_ hurting you Loki. The more power I give you in this _relationship_ ; the less likely you are to be reformed.”

Now his features were pressed into a sneer. “And what point is there in reformation? Once Odin has finished humiliating me, I will be handed over to your people. Something tells me I am not going to be allowed to _turn native_.”

“How-?”

“My brother’s tongue is less than still when he thinks no one can hear. He spoke of a location. I presume that it is for my prison, and I _know_ you are involved.”

Despite herself, Alex perched on the best beside him now. There was something in his voice that she had not expected. Hurt? Betrayal? “I can’t speak of it.”

Long fingers came to cup her face, lips lingering at her ear. “Do not give this up, Alexandra. If I am to be a prisoner for eternity, at least allow me a little time...”

“Do not try to sweet talk me, Loki. I won’t tell you anything, and I _won’t_ let you have me again.”

Despite the surety of her words, the reaction of her body was the complete opposite. A shiver caressed her as his tongue brushed the shell of her ear, moving down to her neck. 

“I _need_ you.” 

The fingers cupping her chin were now at her waist, bunching the light material of her skirt so that they could stroke the pale flesh of her thighs. 

“You are insane,” she murmured, before covering his lips with her own. His tongue was soft against hers as their bodies melded. Her knickers were pushed aside as he entered her, slowly, leisurely. The kiss was broken as she tilted her head back into the mattress.

“God damn you.”

“I can hardly damn myself,” came his response from between her breasts. Her fingers curled in his soapy hair as he gently bit a nipple before tracing it with his tongue. She squeezed him internally, causing him to utter a groan of his own, moving from her breasts to position himself above her, supported by his arms, while still continuing the slow, tortuous pace.   
“I am supposed to be the one with all the power.” 

“My darling girl, you do have all the power.”

oOoOoOo

Alex returned to the party two hours later to find an inebriated Darcy in a rather compromising position with Fandral; Thor and Jane partaking in the Asgardian equivalent of dirty dancing and Eric Selvig duelling Volstagg with a pair of breadsticks. Despite the fact that she was feeling a mixture of both revulsion (with herself) and sexual satisfaction, Alex could not help but laugh at the sight.

“Lady Alex! You have returned!” Thor boomed, momentarily disengaging from Jane to scoop Alex into a hug. “We were concerned!”

“I can see that,” Alex smirked, adjusting her new periwinkle gown. “I spilled wine all over my last dress and had to change.”

“Ha!” Thor clapped her on the back. “It seems as though you have partaken of too much wine! But you must have MORE!”

“I intend to,” Alex replied, leaving Thor to Jane and making her way to the rapidly emptying buffet table. The servants who had been replenishing the stocks had started to partake of the victuals themselves, and were now lulling about the table with goblets in their hands. Alex was strongly reminded of the squire in Disney’s _Sleeping Beauty._

Grabbing her own cup of wine, she checked on Eric, whose breadstick was looking notably worse for wear. “Agent Beckett. We looked for you!”

“Well, here I am!” Alex smirked as the tip of the breadstick fell to the ground. Volstagg whooped gleefully, shouting something about victory: an action that drew Darcy and Fandral from their embrace.

“Oi, hoe, where were you?” Darcy pointed a finger accusingly. “I was about to go looking for your ass. And why is your dress blue?” The brunette glanced at her goblet. “What the fuck is in this stuff?”

“ _You_ ,” Alex chuckled. “Are at the second “o” in maggot. And my dress is blue because I changed it. Spilt wine all over it.”

“But there’s only one “o” in maggo-! OH! I get you!”

“There really isn’t anything to get.” 

Darcy’s face was pinched with confusion for a while, before she shrugged and turned back to Fandral. Standing on her tippy-toes, Alex glanced out over the crowd for any sign of Sif, but it appeared the Goddess of War had departed the frivolities. This was somewhat of a disappointment, as there was nothing Alex wanted more than for some wine-induced duelling. Her mental reverie was cut short as Eric fell to the ground with a loud “clunk”. 

“I’m fine! I’m fine!” He waved his hands around as Volstagg tried to help him to his feet. “I just tripped over this... grape!” The renowned scientist pointed to the pulverised ball of fruit at his feet.

With some help from Volstagg, Alex drew Eric to his feet, sagging under his weight. “I think I should get you to bed, Dr Selvig.”

“Bed! Yes, bed is good.”

“Yo Darcy,” she yelled. “I’m just taking Eric to bed.”

Darcy erupted in a fit of giggles. “You whore.”

Fandral got to his feet, winking at the brunette. “My chambers are near Eric Selvig’s,” he slurred. “Would you care to accompany me there for-”

Darcy jumped to her feet. “ _Fuck_ yes. Oi Janey, we’re all going to bed!”

Jane and Thor looked up, before sliding toward the departing group. Thor grinned, grabbing Eric from Alex’s grasp. “We shall accompany you then!”

While a little disappointed that her second foray into the celebrations was so brief, Alex could not help but be slightly glad that she would soon be reacquainted with sleep. It was dangerously close to sunrise now, and as such Loki was unlikely to remain within her rooms. No, she would be free to sleep.

In was in this moment that the lopsided jumble of people in her entourage turned a corner, only to find the corridor occupied. A blank look passed over Thor’s features as he attempted to ignore the presence of his brother. Fandral was too busy with Darcy to even notice him. The trickster was wearing nothing but a cream towel he had stolen from Alex’s bathroom, his soiled pants draped over one arm. 

“HIM!” Eric bolted from Thor’s grasp, lumbering toward Loki with as much grace as the alcohol content in his blood would allow. Loki stepped back in shock, but was unable to dodge the surprisingly well placed blow to his jaw. The trajectory threw him into the wall, while the inebriated scientist continued his assault. 

The group watched in shock before eventually Thor interjected, dragging the flailing Eric away from Loki’s now hunched form. While bruises had yet to form, blood dripped from a cut in his lip. One eye was closed. Thor shot him a harsh glance. “Move away brother, _quickly_.”

Loki obeyed.


	12. Words of Warning

****

**Chapter Twelve  
Words of Warning**

Odin could not quite remember when Time had begun its vicious onslaught on his youth. Centuries had blended into one another, now passing glimpses as fast as a second, filled with vague memories of hunting, battles, family and friends. Long had Iðunn’s apples ceased to have affect upon his aging physique, no potions or balms could flatten the canyons of age scouring his face or the bleaching of his hair. He could barely make it a week without feeling the sirens call of the Odin sleep.

Most of his life had long withdrawn into the murky quagmire of impaired memory. Yet Odin found himself unable to forget a handful of events, their rendering in his mind as clear as if they had occurred only the day before. The birth and death of his eldest son Baldur; the arrival of Thor after decades of mourning; and finally, the day he had encountered the tiny infant abandoned in Laufey’s temple. Odin did not know why he had reached for the boy. He was a frost giant, the unwanted spawn of his _enemy_. Yet there was something about that plump blob of azure flesh that had melted him. Even as he had cradled the boy in his arms, the blue had faded to a soft Aesir pink; irises melting to an emerald as vibrant as the fields surrounding Odin’s country estate. He had won a great victory that day, but more importantly, he had gained a _son._

As Odin’s years slipped by, he watched his as his sons grew, his eyes ever trained on his Loki. While Thor became the archetypal Aesir, Loki was a mystery to Odin. He was a keen fighter, the only in Asgard able to rival Thor in the duelling yards, but his interest in the art of magic was a concern. As a boy, Loki had preferred the company of books to people. As he grew, he earned himself a reputation for trouble: especially when it came to the bedding of women. Odin heard the rumours, though he chose to let his son’s lascivious actions pass. Let him have his fun. That was all it was: _fun_. The mischief was _fun_. The magic was _fun_. 

It had long since surpassed fun.

Now, hunched in the golden expanse of his throne, Odin found himself confronted with the ramifications of his actions. Had he informed Loki of his true parentage at the beginning, would he have reacted as violently? Would he have turned his back on his family, his _home_ , and declared a war he could not possibly win? 

“Did you inform Doctor Selvig of the nature of Loki’s punishment?” His voice was tainted by exhaustion, but Odin was pleased that it still carried some resonance. 

Thor looked notably uncomfortable at this, eyes trained on the ground.

“Eric Selvig is not of Asgard, and therefore not bound by our laws. The hatred for Loki runs deep on Midgard.”

“Doctor Selvig was enslaved by Loki, was he not?” Frigga’s voice was like a cool balm to Odin’s nerves. In the past, he may have scolded her for the interruption, but in this moment he was happy to hand over the reins. 

Thor nodded. “Indeed, mother.”

“Do you believe he will seek vengeance upon Loki again?” 

“I believe he will.” Thor cleared his throat. “Eric Selvig shares the views of those known as S.H.I.E.L.D: that Loki’s punishment is not harsh enough.”

Odin was well aware of this fact. He had known it from the moment Agent Alexandra Beckett had glanced at his throne, eyes wide, when the sentence had been given. The fear evident in her gaze was enough to chill him. Mortal though she was; her pale hair and grey eyes reminded him of Frigga in the height of her youth. He felt a strange compulsion to protect the girl. And so he had agreed to hand Loki over to the Midgardians after a year, knowing full well that once his youngest left Asgard, he may never lay eyes on him again.

“We cannot allow Doctor Selvig to place himself in danger every night seeking out this vengeance,” Frigga replied, placing her hand on Odin’s shoulder. “Perhaps temporary arrangements should be made?”

Thor frowned. “You cannot mean to continue Loki’s imprisonment into the night?”

Frigga lips started to move, but Odin lifted his hand. Silence reigned a few seconds before his scoured voice filled the hall.

“It is necessary, Thor. Even if we post guards outside his quarters, Loki has knowledge of the secrets ways of this palace. It will not hold him. The punishment must be extended.”

Frigga moved her hand away now, looking with horror at her husband. “But at night he is in danger. We cannot leave him out there alone. Surely this Eric Selvig...!”

“Guards will be posted with him, my wife. Loki is no longer a boy. We must not coddle him. He is being punished. If Selvig desires his vengeance, then it shall be on our terms, not his own.”

“So you will let him be beaten senseless every night?”

Thor’s eyes met Odin’s briefly, before darting to his mother. “My brother is responsible for atrocities on Midgard worse than you can imagine, mother. He deserves the punishment, even if it is painful for us all.”

oOoOoOo

The blows of the Midgardian scientist were feeble at best, and even as the fresh glow of morning filled his courtyard, Loki could feel the injuries healing. The cut lip and swollen eye had, however, been inconvenient. The courtyard thrummed with activity. Inebriated nobles, fresh from the party still raging in the bowels of the palace, had spent their morning soaking in rumours. Some had been told that the impact of Selvig’s fists had wiped away the fake veneer of Aesir flesh, rendering the traitor prince the monster he reputedly was. Others had heard tales of stabbing, mutilation, eye gouging and dismemberment. Of course, the truth was disappointing, but fuelled by mead and wine; the nobles started a fresh onslaught on the prince. One particularly red-faced lord called for a whip from the stables, slashing the flesh upon Loki’s back to the amusement of his fellows.

By the call of the midday bell, the pain was so severe that Loki did not notice the arrival of Thor. His eyes opened only when Mjolnir was dropped by his knees.

“Your punishment has been extended into the night, brother. Temporarily, while Eric Selvig still seeks vengeance.”

Loki almost rolled his eyes, _almost_. Vengeance? The pathetic mortal could do nothing more than administer a few cuts and bruises. By keeping him chained and silenced, the All-Father was sentencing him to something much worse: hunger, thirst, uncleanness, _celibacy_. Thor no doubt thought he was protecting Loki from Selvig, but Loki knew full well that they were actually protecting Selvig and the other mortals from _him_. Had his mother played a part in this decision? Had she decided that his nightly activities with Alexandra Beckett had gone too far?

Perhaps they had?

In the past, Loki would have long discarded of Alexandra Beckett. The slap had been arousing, but now her defiance was crumbling. The joy of the chase was gone, her compliance almost sickening. He even allowed her words to shred him. 

Before the news of his new punishment was brought, Loki had began contemplating undergoing a seduction of the little brunette. _Darcy Lewis_. The girl seemed to lack moral conviction. Her sizeable assets would perhaps allow him momentary respite. It was evident to him that Miss Lewis had spent the previous night rutting with _Fandral_ , of all people, but seduction of the bint would not be difficult.

But now he did not even have that.

He was robbed of Alexandra, of Darcy, of everything. All because his brother was an idiot.


	13. One Short Day

**Chapter Thirteen  
One Short Day**

The rainbow bridge thrummed beneath her: loving, comforting, almost nurturing. Over a month had passed since she had last fallen into the bridge’s embrace, yet to Alex it felt an eternity. Nights upon nights had been spent writhing beneath Loki, screaming his name into the golden hued ceiling. During her absence, he had plagued her dreams, ravishing her in spirit when she could not have him in the flesh. So much had transpired since that night. Every vestige of self-discipline she had held onto had crumbled to dust, leaving her wanton and lacking any vestige of morality.

Yet the more Alex came to know the haunted prince, the more she realised that her self-disgust was dwindling. He was a monster: a cruel, manipulative, insane beast. Even now he felt nothing for the lives he had taken on Earth. Yet while she would forever hate him for what he had done, she could not help but come to conclusion that Loki was a product of the land that raised him.

Thousands of years of supreme power had rendered much of the population of Asgard complacent, shallow and uncaring. They reminded Alex of those she had attended school with: unwilling to take an invested interest in anything that did not directly impact their lives. Gossip passed through the streets of Asgard as rampantly as it did through high school hallways. Growing into adulthood in this environment, it was no wonder that Loki held little interest in the lives of those he had sought to rule.

But what made the situation even more unbearable to Alex, was the nature of Loki’s punishment. While tying Loki up and sewing his lips shut was a great source of humiliation, it did nothing to reform the prince. Here was a man who was clearly mentally unbalanced, yet no one would talk to him. Throughout her life, Alex had thought herself lonely, but she realised now that this loneliness would never compare to that which her lover endured. 

And now his punishment had been extended into the night. The tiny inkling of respite he was allowed had been snatched away. It had taken every iota of self-control for Alex not to storm into Odin’s chamber and declare him an idiot. Such an outburst would do no good. It would only reveal that she had some kind of attachment to Loki, an attachment that was undesirable to everyone but the couple involved.

So instead she had taken Thor’s news with as much professionalism as her weakened emotional state could muster. It had raged on her mind throughout the midday meal (which was technically her breakfast). Her tastebuds barely registered the crisp sweetness of the grapes, or the tartness of the freshly squeezed apple juice. 

_You will be saved from his nightly visits._

The little mantra did nothing to tackle the onslaught of negative thoughts. The previous night she would have adored this opportunity, an externally imposed halt to her foul behaviour. But now... 

Her musing, at this point, had been cut short by the loud entrance of Darcy Lewis. Jane Foster and Eric Selvig had joined Alex only minutes before, looking as exhausted as she, but Darcy was as vibrant as she had the night before.

Alex cocked an eyebrow. “Darcy, how are you?”

“Considering I drank my body weight in ale and spent most of the morning getting me some Asgardian booty, I feel fucking awesome.” Darcy plopped herself down on the bench next to Alex, grabbing a large knuckle of bread which she slathered with butter. “I could seriously murder some bacon though. Do they do bacon in Asgard?”

“Not exactly sure,” Alex had replied with a yawn. “Best ask Volstagg, pretty sure he’s a walking encyclopaedia of food.”

“Tell me about it,” mumbled Darcy through a mouthful of bread, “though apparently he’s never had a Twinkie before. How can anyone live for thousands of years without the spongy creamy goodness that is Twinkies?”

The rest of the day had been spent leading Darcy, Eric and Jane through the sprawling streets of the capital. Unlike the citadel, which seemed to be in an almost permanent state of perfection, the city was truly alive. Smells of all descriptions assaulted their senses; hawkers barked their wares from behind small, neat storefronts. Darcy and Jane found themselves enamoured by the wares on offer: the silks, perfumes and jewellery. Dai, on the other hand, was more interested in the trinkets, weapons and clothing imported from the other realms. Eric merely wandered around, open mouthed, in awe that he was standing in a realm he had grown up thinking was legend. 

Most fascinating to Alex, however, was the newspaper stand. The paper was thick and crisp, beautifully scribed with the runes of Asgard. She picked up one that looked like the daily paper, her mind recognising enough of the symbols to understand that the feature article regarded Loki. A sketched depiction of his likeness, complete with stitches, was on the following page. Alex could not help but notice the way they had made him monstrous: his handsome face cut by ridges and lines, the eyes glistening with madness. 

As afternoon blended into evening, the Midgardians had found themselves drawn to the training yards. Darcy spent most of the time admiring a shirtless Fandral, whose blows were flowery but accurate. It was not until night had completely fallen that Darcy reminded Alex of her promise: to take her to the rainbow bridge.

“This is fucking trippy.”

Alex was drawn from her reverie by the younger brunette, who was spread eagled on the slab of bridge at her side. 

“I so totally want to have sex on this bridge.”

Alex could not stop the snort of laughter that escaped her throat. “Sorry Darce, but you’re not really my type.”

“As if. We’d have awesome sex.”

“I’m sure we would.”

“No, but seriously. Sex on the bridge. Have you ever thought about it?”

Darcy was now lying on her side, pale eyes twinkling. It was like some bizarre version of a sleep-over party, if the mattress was rock solid and packed full of light.

“I can’t say I have.”

“Dont’. Lie. To. Me,” Darcy drawled, smirking. “I wonder if Fandral would be up for it?”

“Fandral is up for anything. _Literally_.” Alex pointed down the bridge. “Don’t forget about Heimdall though, he’ll be watching the _whole_ time.”

“Kinky son of a bitch.” Darcy rapped her fingers on the bridge, her mind clearly churning through all the possibilities. “So tell me Agent Alex, have you scored yourself some Asgardian crumpet?”

“ _Crumpet_?” Alex laughed, sending the younger woman an incredulous look. “I’m not really sure if you can put Asgardian and crumpet in the same sentence. But no, I haven’t.” Well, that was not exactly a _lie_. 

“Shame. Talk about stamina!” Darcy’s voice dropped now. “You know what? If he wasn’t all evil and shit, I would totally tap Thor’s brother.”

“ _Loki_?!”

“That man is smoking hot! Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed that?”

Alex turned away as the heat rose in her face, rendering her cheeks a vivid crimson. “He’s a killer, that’s all I see.”

“A killer with cheekbones that could slice through diamond. Seriously. That man never needs to buy a set of knives. All he has to do is put a tomato up to his cheekbone and – _shing_ – the perfect slice.”

Alex continued to blush as her mind wandered to the previous night, where she had gently brushed her lips against those cheekbones. It was her favourite part of his face to kiss, the skin so smooth...

“Agent Alex? You’re starting to go all Jane on me here...?”

Alex brushed away the thought, smiling at Darcy. “Sorry Darce, just thinking about my dismal lack of a sex life.”

Darcy sighed. “That royally sucks. Surrounded by super models, yet no groiny action. You need to get out there.”

oOoOoOo

The sound of the attack permeated the air well before a visual could be made. Loud smacks of fist against face, barked insults, the occasional rattle of chains. As they came closer, Alex began to wish she was armed, despite the fact she knew full well what she would see. It had been foolish to think that a few blows the night before would sate Selvig’s lust for vengeance.

“Doctor Selvig?”

As much as she tried to imbue her voice with power, she knew it was feeble. The man was on a rampage, thus meaning he was dangerous. 

“Stay out of it, Agent Beckett. This is between me and Loki.”

The scientist’s voice was ragged, but she could hear no hint of drunkenness. No, this was pain, pure and simple. 

Alex edged a little closer now. “I understand you want revenge, Eric, we all do. But beating him to death now will do nothing.”

Selvig shot her an incredulous look. Okay, so the _beating to death_ thing may have been a little bit of an exaggeration. Still. From the tiny amount of light that flickered into the dark courtyard, Alex could see that Loki’s face was in quite a state. Several of the stitches had torn, causing rivulets of blood to pour down his chin. His nose was crooked, a momentary break that would be healed by morning. 

“He deserves it all.”

“He deserves worse,” Alex replied, her voice soft. “And he will get it, in time. I think it’s best if you leave it to the experts?”

“I just want to hurt him.” Selvig’s voice was so quiet now she could barely hear him over the sharp gasps coming from Loki. Evidently breathing through a broken nose was not easy. Alex gestured for Darcy to come forward.

“I think it’s probably best if you take him back to his chambers.”

Darcy did not argue; taking Selvig’s shaking arm. Alex watched as they left the courtyard, shooting her friend a short wave before turning her gaze to Loki. His eyes were closed, the blood on his chin still running fresh from the wounds. It appeared that Selvig had not been the only one to seek vengeance this day: deep slashes scoured Loki’s back, still pink and raw despite the speed of his healing. 

It was in this moment that Alex realised she could not leave him alone in this state. He was not broken. She suspected he had endured much worse at the hands of the Chitauri. Yet, she could not leave. As quickly as her fingers allowed, she removed the top half of her S.H.I.E.L.D uniform, tearing off the white t-shirt she wore underneath. Loki’s eyes opened momentarily, trained upon her briefly exposed chest before she zipped back the outer layer. 

“You owe me a t-shirt, Loki,” she murmured, ripping the white cotton into rough squares. His eyes followed as she dipped them in a nearby fountain.


	14. A Healing Touch

**Chapter Fourteen  
A Healing Touch**

The Midgardian was vibrant with residual power. The very essence of the rainbow bridge seemed to seep from every pore, the connections of Yggdrasil thrumming through her like a second heart beat. It was truly intoxicating. Even as her fingertips brushed against his blood soaked skin, Loki could feel the bridge. It spoke to him, seducing him with whispers of powers lost. Even now, as his eyelids fluttered shut, he could see Alexandra framed by the riot of colour, straw-toned hair splayed against the crystal surface. Every inch of her bare skin would glow: blue, violet, crimson, emerald. As his tongue swept against the cleft of her sex, he would be able to taste it. _Power_. Coveted, stolen _power._

“You have a terrible habit of ruining my social life.”

Her soft voice slashed through the heady rush of his imagination, causing his eyes to once more open. The swab of cotton clenched between her fingers was now the hue of Thor’s cloak. Her storm-grey eyes were trained on his lips, watching in fascination as the stitches morphed into tiny black worms that seamed together, weaving through the ruined flesh. 

When the last of these worms had snapped into place, his little chit resumed her ministrations, brushing away layers of dried blood. The pain was excruciating, as though she were slashing at his jaw with a mirage of tiny knives. He could not help but wince with the agony, an action that caused her to huff.

“Quit your whinging, Laufeyson.”

Loki scowled, causing the wounds of his lips to seep a little blood onto the freshly cleaned patch of skin. _Laufeyson_. It was a name that suggested a connection that did not exist. Laufey may have rutted with his foul Jotunn queen to create Loki, but in no way would he ever be considered a father. What kind of father left their child to _die_ , exposed to the coldest winds of Jotunheim? Then again, what kind of father lied to their son for over a thousand years?

Alexandra gently brushed the cotton against his neck. “Sorry Loki, I know how much you hate that.”

_Sorry_? The word seemed like poison when falling from the tongue of a woman who only moments before had stated: _he deserves worse_. How much simpler would his imprisonment have been had he restrained from taking the girl to his bed? His evenings would have been spent in embrace of his chambers, desires sated by books of ancient pornography and the knowledgeable grasp of his own hand. But even as these traitorous thoughts slipped into his mind, Loki knew they were foolish. He may loathe her pity, but he could never loathe her body. Even now he wished that she would toss aside the blood soaked scrap and move those skilled fingers further south...

oOoOoOo

Loki’s silver tongue had been stilled, rendered silent by the harsh jagged lines of black twine. Even so, Alex felt as though she could read his every thought. His pain was evident, in the gleam of his emerald eyes, the reluctant stance of his hunched body. Anger was clear in the sharp gash of his mouth, the lowered stance of his eyebrows.  
Alex chose to ignore this, running her makeshift rag along the long expanse of his neck. It took every iota of self control not the brush her lips across the pale flesh, run her tongue up to the sharp angle of his jaw. Even in this pathetic state he was still heart wrenchingly beautiful.

Snatching another scrap of cotton from the pile at her side, Alex started to wipe away the splatters of blood painted across his chest. Loki’s breath quickened as her fingers danced across a nipple, accompanied by the cool damp swish of the material. By the time she reached his navel, the blood was almost non-existent. The scrap fell to the ground between them, falling erratically like a fallen leaf upon the Autumn breeze. 

His pants were thin, unable to hide the prominent jut of his arousal. Alex shot a wary glance across the courtyard, but saw nothing. The light that had bathed them before had gone, the lanterns distinguished. Their only company of was the dim lunar glow, barely strong enough for her to see the glint in his eyes.

_Please._

oOoOoOo

Her soft, delicate fingers were like fire against the skin of his lower belly, tracing their way down the dark line of hair from his naval. The material of his pants was worn, the knots collapsing in her hands as she freed him. The keening noise that erupted from his throat could not be helped; all his mind could fathom was the desire for her to touch him: her mouth, her fingers, her tight little cunt.

It was her fingers that finally provided him with coveted touch. Though her movements were quick and precise, he could not help but feel that it was the most delicious sensation he had ever experienced. Every stroke was perfection, the delicate, the rough. A groan replaced the keen as her other hand ventured lower to massage his sac. 

Pain shot through him as he attempted to call out. His little Midgardian stopped concern evident in her gaze. “Do you want me to stop?”

All he could do was shake his head, wishing for the sensation to last a lifetime. The pleasure was everything, made even more intoxicating by the little moans she was uttering. Even tied and mutilated, Loki enjoyed the idea that she was getting aroused merely by the act of pleasuring him.

Climax came with blinding clarity, his seed spattering the grass. Still bathing in the afterglow, Loki barely noticed as she cleaned him off, tucking him back into his pants and before tying the knots. Soft lips swept across his cheek. 

“Until tomorrow night, Loki.”


	15. Facing the Unknown

**Chapter Fifteen  
Facing the Unknown**

The Dark Woods were a sprawling mass of gnarled trunks, pressed within a shadowed valley bathed with fog. The residents of Asgard had long beheld the forest with a deep sense of unease, preferring the skirt around the edges. Legend and myth had wrapped their tendrils around every branch, root and moss-covered rock of the tree-laden den, until it became home to creatures that existed only within the imagination.

From the moment Alex had heard of the Dark Woods she had been desperate to venture within. Her youth had been spent exploring the forested hills surrounding her childhood home. She did so alone, finding respite beneath the emerald canopy, momentary escape from her father, her foolish mother, the bullies at school. The wilderness had always been her sanctuary. It was for this reason that she could not believe that the Dark Woods were inherently evil.

As time passed, as her liaisons with Loki chewed up a great deal of her time, Alex had slowly forgotten about her ambitions to visit the Woods. It certainly did not help that Sif and the Warriors Three had gaped at her when she initially stated her desires. 

“Are all who dwell on Midgard as mad as you?” Volstagg had stuttered over his fifth consecutive leg of mutton. “The Dark Woods are home to all manner of evils! Those that cannot be fought with fist or sword. Steer clear, Lady Alex!”

The sentiments of Sif, Hogun and Fandral had been the same. This only egged Alex on further. What could possibly be in the forest that four of the bravest people she had ever met refused to venture there? 

It was not until the final week of Jane Foster’s visit that Alex was once more reminded of the swathe of trees within the valley. The astrophysicist had finally earned a personal summons from the All-Father. Alex, Darcy, Selvig, Sif and the Warriors Three had watched in uttermost silence (a difficult feat for Darcy) as Thor and Jane had passed through the opulent gilded doors of the great hall. For what seemed like hours they waited in the anti-chamber, their eyes not leaving the dancing flames of the fire pit. All knew what the summons meant. Though Thor had not officially stated it, his desire to make Jane his future queen was etched upon every pore of his being. This meeting was Odin’s chance to choose whether or not he thought the woman worthy of the role.

Darcy had started to unravel the white earphones from around her beloved iPod when the gilded doors burst open. Though no voice could be heard, the electricity on the air gave way to the idea that Thor had been yelling – _loud_. He emerged in a wave of crimson cloak, Jane in tow, looking less than comfortable.

“Thor! What hails, my friend?”

The usually joviality that defined Volstagg’s voice was strained. Alex could understand why. She had never seen Thor angry. Determined? Yes. Upset? Certainly. But never furious. While it bordered on absolutely terrifying, Alex could not help but feel that Loki demanded more fear when he was calm. 

It was Jane who finally spoke, her voice so weak they could barely hear it over the crackling fire pit. “I am to be tested.”

Darcy cocked and eyebrow. “Tested? _Again_? What have you and Captain Barbossa been doing in there? Drinking tea?”

Selvig shot her a dark look, placing a comforting arm around Jane’s shoulders. “It can’t be that bad.”

“It is that bad, Eric Selvig,” Thor finally managed to spit out. “In order to test her courage, _Odin_ has ordered Jane spend a night in the Dark Woods – _alone_.” 

“It is not a big deal, Thor. I’m sure I can make it through one night.” Jane’s voice was still unnervingly quiet, but she seemed resolved. “I used to go camping all the time when I was a kid.”

“But the woods are _different_ ,” Sif interjected. “No one goes there.”

Thor nodded. “It is the home of the Unknown. No one has ever been known to make it through the night.”

“This Unknown,” Alex inquired, wondering why no one had informed her of this before. “Does it have a name?”

“We dare not speak its name.”

Darcy smirked. “Fear of a name only increases the fear of the thing itself.”

oOoOoOo

_You must be silent. You must be still. Should you run, the test is forfeit. Should you scream, the test is forfeit._

The words caused the blood within Thor’s veins to churn, boil, to the point of agony. Never before had he harboured such negative feelings toward the man he called father. He assumed that like Frigga, Odin would embrace Jane. She was beautiful, sweet, and intelligent, bringing freshness to the court long lost within the swarming mass of ancient nobles. It had been Jane that had brought Thor out of his destructive ways, helped him become a man suitable for the throne of Asgard. Yet his father had dismissed this all, flailing in the knowledge that the future queen would be from _Midgard_. Would he ever give her a chance? For thousands of years Odin had filled Loki’s head with false ideas that he was competing for the throne, knowing full well that his true parentage would deny him of it. Now he was doing the same to Jane. This was not a test. It was failure. As much as he loved Jane, as much as he believed in her, he knew she would not make it through the night. If she did, she would not emerge from the Woods the same woman he loved.

Thor gently took Jane’s hand within his own, allowing a small, strained smile to grace his lips. She looked so pale, so scared. She spoke not a word, preferring to look with determination upon the rough track hewn from the mountain – the only road into the Woods. As they came closer to the heavy blanket of trees, Thor could not help but feel that the branches, like the talons of a crone, were reaching out for them, luring them in. He had faced many men, monsters and warriors in his life, but nothing roused fear like the Unknown. The forest was evil. That is all he could think.

And now he would be sending his beloved into its depths.

“I’ll be fine, Thor.” Jane gently pried her hand out of his, hoisting the makeshift hiking pack higher onto her shoulders. Thor knew it to be a false veneer of bravery. As she had packed the various paraphernalia of her work into the pack (why waste a night?) her hands had been shaking. They were not shaking now, but her eyes said it all.

Thor nodded. “I will be here when you emerge.” _Whether that be sooner or later._

oOoOoOo

Jane Foster had never fallen to the doctrine of fear. She had been brought up in a family environment that savoured logic, and fear was anything but logical. It rendered an individual completely useless, unable to tackle the task at hand. Most of the time, the subject of one’s fear was ridiculous. Spiders could be nasty, but they were small. Snakes ran from humans before they could attack. Logic dictated that Jane should not be scared.

But she was.

The Dark Woods was nothing like the forests she, her father and Selvig had explored when she was a child. The thick canopy did not open to a star laden sky, begging to be explored. Roots rose to trip her, branches scratched her face, leaving rivulets of blood and cold sweat dripping down her cheeks. 

_One night. One simple night._

A quick glance behind told Jane she had walked far enough. The forest had locked in around her, and impenetrable barrier. Biting her lip, she removed her pack, letting it fall to the leaf laden floor. Her eyes sought out a location to sit, finally settling on a large fallen trunk, caked with damp moss. Out of the bag she withdrew her notebook and pen. Perhaps the ever-comforting embrace of equations would help stave the illogical fear.

Time passed achingly slow between the boughs of the aged trees. Her mind was diverted for only seconds, perhaps even minutes, always drawn back to the severity of her position. Whether she had been there for hours, she did not know. Fear consumed her, made worse when _it_ approached.

Jane had initially found the name Thor gave to the presence within this forest amusing. The ‘Unknown’. As a scientist, an understanding of the ‘Unknown’ was what she _strived_ for. Why should she fear it? Of course, this amusement was absent here in the forest. The ‘Unknown’ was not even bothering to keep its approach silent. Heavy footfalls rang through the trees. Her mind began to create monsters, huge beasts with tusks and fangs, longing to rip her to shreds. These images were replaced with goblins and nymphs, their sharp little claws perfect for skinning her alive. 

What her eyes finally fell on was quite different.

_Loki_.

Of course it wasn’t Loki. It couldn’t be. This Loki looked different to the dirty gaunt creature in the courtyard. His face was plumper, the gold of his elaborate armour free from tarnish. Upon his head was a helm sporting two large horns. A grin spread across his pale features, dripping with mischief and cruelty.

“You looked scared, Jane Foster. One should not be frightened of their future brother-in-law.” The image disappeared, only to snap back into reality behind her. A long, cold finger traced her jaw. 

_It is not real. It is not real_.

“I assure you, Jane, I am very real.”

Jane nearly gasped out loud, causing the Loki-Unknown to laugh. It was not the laugh she expected, more of a cruel giggle that flittered through the leaves, echoing in the darkness. 

“I am in your mind, Jane, I know everything you know, feel everything you feel. I know what you fear.”

_I fear nothing_.

“If you feared nothing, I would not be here. Lies are pointless, Jane. I should know, I am the God of Lies.”

_Not Loki. It is not Loki_.

The laughter again. This time the cold finger was replaced by a hand, which clutched her throat.

_Don’t scream, don’t scream, don’t scream_.

“No, I am not Loki son of Laufey. I am the monster parents tell their children about at night.” Loki-Unknown’s voice was now a dark whisper. “I know everything you fear, Jane Foster. I know all that you love, and I know all that you hate. You cannot escape from me. No one ever has.”

_I will. I will_.

The little mantra seemed pointless, the insincerity only strengthening the glee of her captor. “I know that you fear not for your own safety. You, like my _brother_ would happily sacrifice yourself for those you love. But I have no intention of hurting you, Jane Foster, not yet, not physically.”

_Fear is your greatest enemy_ , her father had told her as a child, as she screamed of monsters in her closet. _Once you combat fear, you can do anything_.

That is what this beast was. Fear. Everything she feared, all accumulated in the form of the man she feared the most. 

Loki-Unknown smiled now. “I think I will begin with your curvy little friend, Miss Lewis. Loki wants her, I can see that from my forest. Every time she walks past he stares at her, raping her with his eyes.” A shrill scream filled the air, not Jane’s, but Darcy’s. The brunette was tied naked to one of the nearby trees, her eyes wide, chocolate locks in disarray. A figure of Loki stood before her, naked, aroused, a small silver knife clutched between his fingers. Trickles of blood leaked from incisions over Darcy’s body: her breasts, her thighs, her throat. Jane wanted to scream, wanted to assure Darcy that is would be alright. 

_It is not real._

“Tut, tut, Jane Foster. Ruining all my fun. You are a hard nut to crack.” The image of Darcy disappeared and Jane lagged against her captor. More than anything she wanted to vomit, but his hand was making it difficult to even _breathe._

“The form of the man I take yearns for revenge on all of your friends, Jane Foster. Once the chains have dropped he will seek out Eric Selvig, gutting him like a pig. Then will come the Avengers. One by one he will rip them apart, leaving his favourite morsel until last.” Another apparition appeared now, morphing the patch of forest before her into a replica of Odin’s throne room. Thor was strung up, much as Darcy had been, only this time to a hook in the high ceiling. The Loki before him was caked in filth from his incarceration. The vision was so vivid Jane could smell him, mingled with the tang of blood seeping from Thor’s many wounds. Clutched between Loki’s fingers was a blazing torch, his other hand clutching a pot of what looked like burner oil.

“The Chitauri,” shadow Loki began in a distant voice, “may be foul, but they are a creative bunch, especially when it comes to inflicting pain.” The figure started to pour the oil through Thor’s long hair. “This particular gem was designed specifically for me. You see, when I am in my _original_ form, heat is intolerable. You are Aesir, but I suspect the affect will be much the same.”

Jane watched in horror as Loki put the flames against Thor’s dripping hair, the straw-toned locks bursting into flames. Her lover started to scream, and as he did so, Jane heard her own screams echoing in the forest, mingled with the cruel chuckle of Loki-Unknown.

“You are quite the disappointment, Jane Foster. I honestly thought you would last longer.”

oOoOoOo

The news of Jane’s failure reached the citadel long before Thor located her within the forest. Her screams echoed from the valley, swarming up the hill before settling in the golden-hued halls of Odin’s palace. Alex’s gaze was trained on the All-Father, though the king did not stir. His lips did not twitch.

Frigga on the other hand buried her face in her hands, sobs clearly audible over the tone of Jane’s muted screams. Alex yearned to comfort her, but found herself locked to the spot. Jane had failed. _How_ had Jane failed?

Thor had basically insinuated that the test was rigged, but Alex had not believed it. Surely the All-Father would give Jane a fair chance? What was the point in putting his favourite son off-side? More than anything she wished to know – if it had been Sif, or another Asgardian woman that Thor had wished to marry, would she have undergone the same test?

The answer would of course be no. 

Sending a parting look at Darcy and Selvig, Alex darted from the hall. Racism. That’s all it could be. The All-Father had taken so very little interest in exacting justice upon Loki for what he had done to her planet. Now he would not even allow Thor to marry his Midgardian suitor. Did he think them foolish animals? So beneath him?

Alex was not exactly sure why she was so furious. It was not as though Odin had been openly horrible to her. It’s just that she _liked_ Jane, and she _really_ liked Thor. 

Her feet navigated their own way, her mind still too full of injustice. It was not until she heard the squelching of wet grass that she realised she had walked straight into Loki’s courtyard. His pale eyes were tired, but followed her none the less.

“Your father’s a git.”

Her short statement caused his eyebrow to shoot up. _Not my father_.

Alex ignored him. She did not know why, but she started to rant. About Jane, about Thor about the injustice of it all. Perhaps it was because Loki’s lips were sewn shut. He could not retort. In a way, she wondered if her feelings were not centred around Jane and Thor at all, but rather around her own _relationship_ with Loki. 

What if he was reformed?

What if he were welcomed back into the fold with open arms?

What if he wanted Alex to be _his_?

Would she be forced into the Dark Woods too? Doomed to failure?

It was a truly preposterous notion.


	16. The Beautiful and the Damned

**Chapter Sixteen  
The Beautiful and the Damned**

Jane Foster’s final week in Asgard was stained with melancholy. Darcy was her usual chipper self, but even Alex could see this was an act to lighten everyone’s spirits. Thor spent every second he could with his love, but his lips never seemed to curl into a smile, and the sadness in his eyes was bordering on tragic.

News of what beheld Jane in the Dark Woods soon started to spread throughout the citadel. Jane had told her experiences to Thor only, but as Alex knew, the walls of Asgard had ears. Apparently the Unknown had come to Jane in the form of Loki. This Loki had tortured everyone Jane loved before her eyes before she cracked. It really was no wonder that the woman broke down every time they stepped within the confines of the courtyard.

As much as Alex was appalled by what Jane had undergone, she could not help but feel pity for Loki. She knew he would hate that. Pity was not something that Loki coveted, but in this case he deserved it. Had the Chitauri really burned him alive, or was that just a fabrication created by the Unknown? Furthermore, did he really deserve to be the accumulation of all that Jane Foster feared?

During this final week, Alex spent a fair amount of her evenings talking to Loki. She told him of the day to day activities, the rumours and most importantly, the accounts she had heard of Jane’s punishment. His features had been completely unreadable at this point. The mention of the fire torture brought hollowness to his eyes, one which he desperately tried to blink back. 

_What had the Chitauri done to him?_

Alex sat up from her desk, saving her completed report on a S.H.I.E.L.D encoded USB stick. Momentarily she pondered what Fury would make of the report. In the past, her correspondences had been vague recollections of life in Asgard, occasionally littered with observations of Odin’s rule. This was much longer. It spoke of Jane, Odin, Asgard, Jotunheim and the latent racism she perceived. Her conclusion: Midgard would always be under the protection of Asgard, but its people would never be considered equal.

Alex slipped the USB stick into one of the concealed pockets of her uniform, grabbing her jacket just as Darcy bounded in. The younger woman sported a hiking pack, bursting at the seams with everything she had accumulated during her stay. In so many ways, Alex wished that Darcy could remain. Fandral would love it, and it had been so many years since she had had a close friend...

“Hurry the fuck up, Australia.”

Darcy’s fake Australian accent was truly appalling, causing Alex to spill in a cascade of giggles. They made their way through the labyrinthine halls, arms linked, chatting at a rapid pace so as to make the most of every second they had remaining.

“You’d better come and visit me, hoe,” Darcy pouted as they trotted down the rainbow bridge. “My apartment is a piece of shit, but I have vodka. _The good stuff_.”

“The good stuff?”

“The good stuff. You, me, Benedict Cumberbatch and vodka. It’s a date. Don’t stand me up, you bitch.”

Alex smirked, allowing Fandral to drag Darcy off for what looked like a rather impassioned goodbye. This momentary second of standing alone allowed Frigga to take slide in by her side. Alex tensed. She liked Frigga a great deal, but still felt particularly awkward about the knowledge the queen possessed.

“I will fight for them,” the older woman stated quietly. Alex followed Frigga’s gaze, to where Jane and Thor were standing. “My husband is a great king, but at times he can also be a foolish one.”

Alex was silent now, not really sure how to respond.

“He forgets that Asgard has become a stagnant race. I know you have noticed this Alexandra. We need fresh blood, others to consume the apples of Iðunn, but we are disinclined toward letting others live within our realm.”

The queen paused momentarily. “I only want what is best for my son,” her eyes now bore into Alex’s. “For _both_ of my sons. If this means allowing women of Midgard to feast upon the orchard. So be it.”

_Women of Midgard_. Alex gulped, but before she could assure the queen that she had no marital intentions toward Loki, Frigga had disappeared.

oOoOoOo

It was lonely without Darcy.

She missed the brunettes ranting, the lascivious conversation about Fandral’s sexual prowess, the random pop culture references that no one else understood. Frowning, Alex opened the bottom drawer of her desk, revealing her precious cache of Whittaker chocolate. It was a New Zealand brand, imported into Australia: rich, creamy and purely delicious. Chocolate had never been conducive to her attempts to stay fit and healthy, but right now she needed it: lots of it.

Unwrapping one of the bars, she took a huge bite, letting the chocolate roll over her tongue. Heaven. Heaving herself toward the bed, she snatched up her well-loved copy of Fitzgerald’s _The Beautiful and the Damned_ and started to read. That was when the knocking started.

“Fuck me,” she groaned, placing the chocolate and book on her bed. It was a familiar knock, one that made her blood run cold. Of course. The Midgardians had gone. Loki would be freed, complete with three weeks of pent up sexual frustration. Despite much trepidation, Alex opened the door to be confronted with a sight she simply was not prepared for. 

He was an absolute mess. Within the context of the courtyard she had been able to look past the smell, the blood, the dirt, the _other things_ , but now it was here in the entrance to her chambers. The most disturbing aspect however was his expression, sheer desperation: for cleanliness, for water, for food, for _her_.

Loki did not ask, nor beg, but she could feel this desperation as she took his arm. He was shaking, barely able to stand on his own two feet. She rushed for the bathroom, thrusting him into the large shower cubicle before turning the faucets on full. As the water slammed upon him, Loki simply looked lost, eyes shadowed. 

“Use the soap,” Alex murmured, shoving a white cake in his hand. “I’ll run you a bath.” Loki did not move, rather pointing to his throat. 

“Fuck!” Alex swore, heading back to her chambers. “Worst fucking nurse ever.” Grabbing a goblet from a tray by her door, she filled it with fresh water, before venturing back to the bathroom. Loki gulped the water, demanding another after mere seconds. She had read somewhere that drinking too rapidly while dehydrated was dangerous, but Loki had survived weeks without any water. He was a case she was entirely unfamiliar with.

When Loki had finished the entire jug, Alex began running the bath. The foul scent of his unwashed state was soon drowned by heavy perfume. 

“ _Help me._ ”

His voice was rusty with lack of use, the tones barely penetrating the loud crash of the running water. Alex slipped from her uniform, stepping into the cubicle beside him. The soap was becoming sludgy in his fingers. Alex swiftly took it, running the sudsy cake down his chest. Several cuts and bruises tainted the skin, fresh from yet another day’s punishment. Perhaps even Selvig saying his final goodbyes?

Carefully, Alex undid the ties of his now ruined trousers, slipping the material down his legs. Hiding her disgust, she bunched the swath of filthy cotton into the corner of the cubicle. She would deal with _that_ later.

Despite his weakened state, Alex could not help but notice his reaction to her ministrations. As the bar of soap slipped against his upper thigh, his cock twitched, becoming harder with every caress. 

“Seriously Loki, you are incorrigible,” she smirked, ignoring his erection as she continued to clean his lower body. His hair was the last part of his body to meet the soap, though she would use shampoo in the bath. Stretching to accommodate his height, she scrubbed the bar through the raven locks, fingernails digging into his sunburnt scalp. A hiss left his lips, pain, pleasure she was not sure which. His long fingers, once paralysed, now clutched her hips, drawing her closer. His cock jutted between her thighs, brushing against the sodden cotton of her knickers.

“Let me fuck you.”

Alex dropped the soap, pushing Loki away, into the full stream of the shower. “No. You need food. You need rest.”

“I need your cunt.”

Alex scowled. “Well, aren’t you lovely? Haven’t been able to talk for weeks and the first thing you demand is my-”

“You sound like your little brunette friend,” Loki croaked. “It does not become you.”

“Perhaps they shouldn’t have removed the stitches. You were much nicer when you couldn’t talk.”

Allowing Loki to remove the soapsuds from his hair, she stepped out of the cubicle again, checking the water level of the bath. It was full, brimming with slick bubbles dense with perfume.  
The water in the shower stopped, and Loki emerged, shaking on his feet. His clean flesh revealed all: the clear shadow of his ribs, the gauntness of his cheeks. Without instruction, he submerged himself within the warm haven of the bath. 

“Food.”

“Demanding, aren’t you?” Alex snapped, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll find you some food in a moment. All I have now is chocolate.”

“That will do.”

“ _That will do_? That stuff is precious!” Nevertheless, Alex grabbed several bars from her desk, opening one and handing it to Loki. His groans were almost orgasmic as he took his first bite. 

“So _this_ is chocolate.”

“In all its glory.”

Loki inhaled the first bar, reaching for a second. “It is possibly the best thing I have ever tasted. Perhaps even better than your cunt.”

“You know, for an intelligent man, you are ridiculously crass.”

Loki merely sent her a smirk, digging into his third bar. As this disappeared, Alex slipped into the bath beside him, taking a small basin into her hands. Gently, she let the hot water pour over his semi clean hair. 

“Hand me the shampoo.”

Loki reached for the plastic bottle of Midgardian magic, allowing her to squeeze the goo into his hair. Her scrubbing was less vigorous now, slow and languorous, causing him to close his eyes and lean into her. Soon she was massaging just for the sake of it, enjoying the feel of his soft locks between her fingers. It was like liquid obsidian, as beautiful as the man attached to it. 

Long fingers quickly clutched her wrist as she went in for another bout of massaging. Emerald eyes glanced at her from beneath his crown of bubbles. 

“Thank you.”

_Thank you_? A blush flashed across her cheeks. “It... is nothing. I just didn’t want you messing up my room.”

Loki looked away now, grabbing the small basin and tipping more water over his clean hair. It was getting long, falling below his shoulders. She wondered if he would let her cut it. Letting the basin clutter to the floor beside the bath, Loki was upon her.

“I have eaten,” he whispered. “I have rested.” 

“You are still weakened.”

“I have strength enough for this.” His lips gently caressed the hollow at the base of her throat, fingers dragging down the drenched straps of her bra. The clasp was no hindrance, the cups of cotton removed from her body in a second. Alex could not stifle her groan as his palm brushed against a sensitised nipple. He lingered only momentarily in this area, before slipping down to her hips. Now she could nothing but help, dragging her knickers awkwardly from her body, clutching his arse in an attempt to bring him closer.

“Whore.”

She groaned as the head of his cock brushed against her sex. The water splashed, neither cared. “Wretch.”

“Wretch, am I?” With a sharp jolt of his hips he was fully sheathed, eliciting a loud yelp from both of them. Water splattered the floor with the ferocity of his thrusts, his hands clutching her hips, trapping her beneath him. “I will not last long.”

Alex could already feel the euphoria of her own release drawing near. Though her mind may have convinced itself that she did not miss Loki’s touch, her body disagreed. He came with a sharp moan, thrusts rough, disjointed. Still deep within her, Loki moved his hand from her hip, running his thumb achingly over her clit until she too began to unravel. 

It was only then that they noticed the knocking at the door.


	17. Listen My Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, darlings, but I have just spent the last two nights in Sydney seeing TOM HIDDLESTON! I was lucky enough to get entrance to the Popcorn Taxi Q & A with him on Tuesday night (we sat riiiight at the front), and on Wednesday night I stood in the crowd and watched him sign things for 150 lucky people (I was thirty people away from being one of them!). I actually stood in the same room as Tom Hiddleston. Please excuse me while I die. If you're interested in reading my account of the whole thing, my tumblr account is also keeperofthenine :D
> 
> And to express the feels I am overwhelmed with at the moment, have some Loki/Frigga feels :D

**Chapter Seventeen  
Listen My Son**

“Do not answer it.”

His voice was orchestrated as a soft purr, as though verbal seduction would be enough to keep her in place. He knew it was foolish. His Midgardian whore would never leave the door unanswered. Her entire body screamed panic: panic at missing whoever it was, at being caught in such a nefarious situation. Her inner walls tensed up around him, rousing his cock into a stage of semi-arousal, destined to bloom to full. _He did not want her to leave._

“Because that wouldn’t look suspicious.” 

Her sarcastic drawl was irritating to say the least, and he silenced any further rebuke with his lips and tongue. Her lips bruised beneath his onslaught, her tongue shying from his. Fists bunched at his chest in a seemingly futile attempt to push him off.

The knocking intensified: louder, quicker, _annoying._

Loki finally allowed the girl to slip from beneath him, awkward even with the size of the tub. His breath hitched as she leant over the tub, stretching to get out, her plump arse so very inviting. His cock stirred as he recalled the sensation of the soft flesh beneath his fingers, how hot it felt after each slap. His Alexandra had _enjoyed_ it too.  
Within seconds the luxuriousness of her curves were hidden beneath a loose fitting bathrobe, a fluffy monstrosity she had clearly brought back from Midgard. Despite her whorish nature, his Alexandra still held on to far too much of her modesty for his liking. He wanted it gone.

“Stay,” she cautioned, rubbing a towel through her damp tresses, now the colour of rich caramel. 

Loki rubbed his thumb against the head of his erection. “Make them go, _quickly_.”

As his fingers traced the familiar ground of his own cock, Loki’s mind wandered to the lascivious roads down which he wished to explore. Had his incarceration not taking such a negative turn, he may have enjoyed the ministrations of both Alexandra and Darcy. Even now a smile curled his lips at the thought. He would taste his Alexandra, causing her to scream his name just with a snap of his tongue. The rude little brunette would put her mouth to better use on his cock. 

Perhaps his mind would be better spent on other pursuits: magic, his experiences, reformation. He had thought of them all while enduring his three weeks of permanent punishment. Many times he wondered what life may have held for him if Odin had revealed his true parentage from the beginning. What if Laufey had come looking for him? What if Odin’s eldest son had never died? But these questions did him little good now. All he wanted was his Alexandra: her voice, her fingers, her hair, her eyes, her laughter, her moans, her wet quim. That was all he needed. 

And it truly terrified him.

oOoOoOo

The person at the door was clearly persistent.

Alex could not help but wonder who it was. Thor’s knocks were usually louder; their intensity giving way to an illusion that he would slam the door down. The servants were meek, their knocks polite and short. 

Her damp fingers slipped against the handle, making it difficult to find grip, but the door soon fell open. The figure on the other side smiled softly, and Alex knew she should fall to her knees, but her legs did not give way. Shock overwhelmed her, followed by a dose of pure, unadulterated panic.

“Queen Frigga, I apologise for my tardiness.”

Her voice was weak, but Frigga did not seem to notice or care. Instead, she lifted the large tray clutched in her hands. “The servants were bringing this to you. I thought I would instead.”

_The queen bringing me dinner_? Alex fought back the urge to pinch herself. Surely this was some kind of weird dream roused in the aftermath of rampant bathtub sex? 

“Your Majesty, that is very kind of you.” Alex stood back, letting the queen enter, thankful that her chambers were relatively tidy. The bathroom door was, thank Odin, closed. “How can I help you?”

Frigga placed the tray on Alex’s desk, and it was only now that Alex noticed that it contained three goblets and an extra large flagon of wine. 

“My son is here, is he not?”

Alex’s blood ran cold. “Your Majesty?”

“Loki. He was not in his chambers. I assume he came to you?”

Alex could not nothing but nod. 

The queen’s gaze turned to the bathroom door. “Is he well?”

“No, your majesty. His punishment has left him weak.”

Frigga shot her a small, kind smile. “Not too weak for some pursuits, it seems.” 

Alex blushed. 

“I will not condemn you, Agent Beckett. I see now that my son’s redemption can only come at the hands of Midgard. You are helping him.” Frigga’s gaze did not wander from the closed bathroom door. Alex could see the yearning there. On the one hand, the queen desperately wanted to open the door. On the other, she feared what she would find on the other side.  
“Do you wish to speak with him, your Majesty?”

Frigga nodded, her eyes hopeful. “If he will let me?”

oOoOoOo

Alex did not realise she had been rendered momentarily numb until her back was thrust against the closed bathroom door. The pain was inconsequential, her body reacting instantly to the slick wetness of his undried skin. The pair of men’s pyjama pants clutched in her hands slipped to the floor, the ties of her gown coming undone through the ferocity of his embrace.

“Loki! _No_ ,” she hissed against his onslaught, trying to fight off his roving hands, the probing length of his cock. “This is _not_ the time.”

He laughed. “My dear girl, this is as good a time as any.”

Her hands pressed against his chest. “Your mother is waiting outside.”

Loki pulled back, letting her slide down the smooth wood. His emerald eyes fell to the bath which he had hastily emptied, the tilt of his lips a clear indication that he wished to be able to sick back into the lost water, _hide_ from the world. 

“I have no mother.”

Alex rolled her eyes, snatching the pants and throwing them at him. He caught them without thinking.

“Stop being a dick and put these on. She wants to talk to you.”

“And if I do not wish to speak to her?”

“Then you’re an idiot.”

Loki slipped his long legs into the pants. It was fortunate that Alex had a fondness for wearing oversized men’s pyjamas, for the pants fit him perfectly. When the knot at the waist was tied, he turned to her. “Will you be there?”

“You’re in my chambers, of course I will be there.”

oOoOoOo

Loki did not know how to react to the woman currently sitting on Alexandra’s bed. She looked as though she had aged a century. Wrinkles cracked the skin around her eyes, where before there had been only lines of laughter. Her hair of spun-straw seemed lank and lifeless. Periwinkle eyes were damp with tears.

“Loki?”

“Queen Frigga.”

More tears fell, pain staining her expression. “My son, please.”

Loki’s lips would not move. They _couldn’t_. It was as though Odin’s stitches had webbed their way through his soft flesh, restricting his tongue.

The Queen attempted a different tactic, handing him a goblet of wine. The dark liquid within emitted a heavenly odour. It reminded him of Asgardian summers spent fighting and fucking: the days of his youth. The queen must have ordered this straight from Odin’s cellar. The goblet remained still within his hands.

“Why are you here?”

The queen, while evidently hurt at his question, spoke steadily. “Does a mother need an excuse to speak with her son?”

“You have not come to me earlier.”

“Your father-”

Loki sipped the wine, trying to ignore how delicious it was. “ _Odin’s_ orders still stand as far as I know. You should not be here.”

“Loki-” Alexandra’s voice emerged from the corner of the room, disembodied, as though she were naught more than a ghost. 

Loki lifted a finger. “This is none of your concern, Alexandra.”

“Do not be cruel, Loki,” the queen murmured. “Agent Beckett is one of your few advocates here in Asgard.”

Loki could not constrain the dark smirk that tilted his lips. “That is exactly what she said about you. Tell me, _mother,_ is this some plan the two of you concocted? A chance to get me at my weakest?” He threw the goblet against the floor, watching as the crimson flood within splashed the boards and nearby wall. “Do you think I will tell you everything? Beg for your forgiveness? Perhaps you think that together you can _reform_ me, make me better, _like Thor?_ ”

Once more the disembodied voice came from the corner. “Loki, I-”

“SILENCE!”

Alexandra fell silent, but the queen stood from the bed. She was determined, he would give her that much. “I never agreed with your punishment, Loki. I just wanted you back, I wanted you _home_. It hurt, seeing you every day but being able to talk to you, to hold you. _You are my son_.”

“I am not your son, woman. I do not even know who my mother is.”

The queen reached for his arm. “Why do you have to be so cruel, Loki. I always loved you. I never treated you differently. What has _happened_ to you?”

Loki pulled away, backing toward Alexandra’s corner. “Should you not be off comforting Thor?”

“Thor is beyond reproach,” the queen whispered. “We are losing him, as we lost you. I do not want to lose either of my sons, Loki. Not again.”

_Not again_.  
Loki did not know what it was that clicked, what snatched away his anger and replaced it with empathy. Perhaps it was the sadness in the queen’s eyes, the sudden onslaught of memories regarding her love. Unlike Odin, she had never treated him differently to Thor. Even as the scandals surrounding him in court had escalated, she had supported him. 

Without a word, he took the soiled goblet from the floor, refilling it to the brim. The wine really was too fine to waste, and he regretted discarding his previous morsel. The queen was watching with wary eyes, her own cup barely stable between shaking fingers. 

“I never blamed you, mother.”

His words were clearly all she wished to hear, the goblet falling from her fingers as she came toward him. He knelt in the embrace, allowing her to cacoon him, arms tight around her waist. For a millisecond he felt as though he were a boy once more, the timid victim of his brother’s foolish bravado. He did not even realise that, he too, was sobbing.


	18. So Very Modest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a quick question for you all. When I was at the Popcorn Taxi Q & A session with Tom on Tuesday, and at the Kinokuniya signing on Wednesday, I couldn't help but wonder if any of my readers were in attendance. I was genuinely intrigued to know. The thing is, I couldn't just yell out "Hey, has anyone in here read _With All Vice Tainted?_ " Because that would be awkward. There were about 300 at the Q & A and I reckon about 700 at the signing. So tell me, my Australian lovelies, were you there? 
> 
> But in the mean time, have some bathhouse smut.

**Chapter Eighteen  
So Very Modest**

_You will tell no one of what has transpired here._

Two days had passed since Loki had crumbled in his mother’s arms. Alex had been unable to move from her secluded corner, her eyes trained on display of intense emotion. In this state he had seemed a boy, innocent almost. It was hard to imagine that this was the same man pressing her against the door less than an hour before.

He had departed soon after his mother, these words slipping past trembling lips. Of course she would never tell a soul. To do so would incriminate the queen, not to mention herself. Yet, despite this, Loki had not returned to her chambers. Perhaps he was spending much needed time with his mother? Or maybe he was horrified that he had broken down in front of _her_ : a mere mortal. 

It was foolish to miss his embrace. The queen might choose to cast a romantic hue upon the affair, but Alex knew her relationship with Loki was nothing but destructive. He was right. She _was_ a whore. Only the basest of creatures would covet the touch of a man who treated her with great contempt. Only a slut would scream his name while people on her home world yearned for his head. 

Alex quickly parried one of Sif’s blows, dragging her mind from its dangerous path. The training yards were filled with the clack of wood against wood. The stench of blood and sweat mingled with the smoke of surrounding fires, a heady concoction that only forced Alex to fight harder. Sif always had the upper hand, but she could see that even the Asgardian was taken aback by her ferocity, the calculated thrust of her sword, the offensive stance. 

“You fight with purpose,” the warrior panted, finally planting the point of her practice sword against Alex’s throat. 

Alex dropped her own weapon, the wooden blade flicking sand onto her boots. 

“You could say that.”

Sif gave her a long look, before lowering her own sword. “I will not pry. I simply wish to state that you should fight like this more often. Soon you will be better than I.”

She was lying. Alex did not need to be the God of Lies to determine this. None-the-less, she did not stop the smile from spreading across her lips. Compliments from Sif were few and far between.

It did not take long for Alex to lose her third consecutive duel. In a sense, she was proud of her achievement. Upon first taking up the sword against Sif months before, she would return to her chambers in agony. On this evening, she felt nothing but a dull ache in her sword arm. Retrieving her sword, she got to her feet, noting only now that she and Sif were completely alone.

“The others will be at the baths. You should join us.” 

Alex frowned. This was not the first time Sif had invited her to the communal bathing houses of Odin’s palace. Her usual reaction was to decline. As much as she enjoyed soaking, the idea of being completely exposed in a public location made her uncomfortable. Though months in the practice yards, a better diet and nightly dalliances with Loki had flattened her stomach and reduced some of her generous curves, Alex could not help but feel frumpy in comparison to Asgardian women.

Sif observed this trepidation, taking Alex’s arm with a smile. “No excuses. The waters of the baths of Odin are divine.”

“My personal bath is pretty divine.”

The goddess of war laughed. “Surely a night spent in the company of naked warriors far surpasses your private bathing facilities!”

Alex shrugged. Sif did have a point. Besides, returning to her lonely chambers was not exactly something she anticipated. Idly, she thought of the times when she had dreaded finding Loki within her personal space. How things had changed.

The doors to the baths were marked with hundreds of symbols: some of fertility, others of love, lucks, battle, childbirth and Alex even recognised a few signatures, scrawled in a childish script. Compared to the rest of Odin’s palace, this door seemed almost scruffy, quite unlike the lavish hall within. 

The complex of the palace baths was monolithic, consisting of several alternate chambers branching off from the central room. This room contained shelves and drawers in which personal belongings could be kept. Huge, fluffy towels hung from hooked, routinely replaced by hoards of lightly dressed servants. Even within this open hall, nudity was commonplace, and Alex tried her hardest to keep her gaze diverted.

Locating several empty drawers and hangers, Sif and the Warriors Three started to disrobe. Alex’s personal awkwardness trebled, yet she could not help but accept that within this environment, her S.H.I.E.L.D uniform looked utterly ridiculous. Keeping to the shadows as much as possible, she slipped from the clingy garment, pulling off her boots, until all that remained were her bra and knickers. 

As obscene as the flimsy garments of green and black lace were, Alex was reluctant to remove them. 

Re-crafting her hair into a messy bun, Alex followed her friends into one of the bathing chambers. It was a cacophony of sight and sound, skins of various hues glistening in the steamy atmosphere. Laughter, conversation and the lilted moans of love making poured through the air. Within the bathing house, it seemed, exhibitionism was rife. 

“The women of Midgard wear too many clothes,” Fandral sighed, sinking into the depths of the huge bath. “My lady Darcy was the same when I brought her here. I do not understand why she would want to hide assets as fine as hers.” As though to illustrate, the blonde cupped his chest.

Alex could not resist. “Darcy came here?”

“Indeed. But as the night went on, I managed to lure her out of her layers.” Fandral winked, and Alex could not help the spread of a blush. _Awkward_.

Despite the fact she looked quite overdressed in her underwear, Alex soon began to enjoy the steamy haven. Fine goblets of wine and ale were distributed among the guests at regular intervals. Some enjoyed massages, while other patrons swum through the steaming water. Time seemed to slip into nothing as Alex submerged herself in the depths of the pool. Every now and again she would strike up a conversation, flick some water at Volstagg or politely rebuke the advances of a curious Asgardian man. People soon started to disappear as the night wore on. Sif slipped out, dragging a toned dark-skinned man with her. As Alex watched them leave, she caught a flash of obsidian hair and pale skin. 

Checking that Volstagg and the others were occupied, Alex slipped from the bath. 

The alcove was shrouded in obscurity, barely noticed even by those who walked past. Steam acted like a barrier at its entrance, though the golden walls within were uncomfortably cool.   
“By wearing clothes, you only draw attention to yourself, my little Midgardian.”

It was a purr of sound, intoxicating, seductive. Since his impromptu departure from her chambers two nights before, Alex had yearned to hear that voice once more. 

Long, pale fingers suddenly found her hips, her body drawn closer to his. He looked healthier than he had before; evidently the queen had been making sure he ate. His hair was now shorter, slicked back to rest at the nape of his neck. Momentarily Alex found herself disappointed that she had not been given the opportunity to cut it herself. 

Gently, she caressed his sharp cheekbones with her fingers, eyes meeting his in the gloom. His lips found hers, tongue pushing into her ready mouth, gliding along her teeth. Like the other patrons of the baths, he was completely naked, his cock jutting into her stomach. As her fingers slid between them to caress it, Loki pulled away.

“I have things I wish to discuss with you,” he murmured. “You will stay in the baths until most have left. I will meet you there.”

Alex bit her lip, the wine driving her on. “What of your more immediate problem?” Despite his previous protestations, she reached for him again, riding her index finger under the thick shaft before gently cupping his sac. 

“You are inebriated.”

Alex sunk to her knees, difficult within the confined space. “A little.” A tiny drop of pre-cum beckoned from the head, luring her, tempting her to take a small sharp lick. She did not know whether it was the wine, the heat, the steam or the fact she had spent the past few hours surrounded by sexually charged couples, but Alex could not resist. Every inch of him yearned to be kissed, so she obeyed, brushing the velvet skin with her lips until his breathing came in erratic gasps. Covering her teeth with her lips, she drew the head of his cock into her mouth, circling it with her tongue. Long fingers slipped through her hair even as her own dipped beneath the hem of her knickers. 

“Yes... Alexandra...” his voice was weak, his climax a sheer certainty as she relentless pumped him, drawing his cock further into her mouth until the rounded tip reached her throat. The pressure, mingled with the reaction of her self-pleasuring, caused tears to drip from her closed eyes. Stars danced before shut lids, her own moans humming around his length until he came, deep in her throat.

“Let me,” he growled, panting in his climax, dragging her to her feet. Her fingers were replaced by his, kisses drowning out the verbal representation of her own end. After what seemed a lifetime, his hand withdrew. 

Alex sagged against the wall.

oOoOoOo

“My mother believes I should not treat you like a whore, yet at times, you insist on behaving like one.”

It was not exactly the first statement Alex expected to hear, and in a way, she wished she had not. It was not as though she begrudged Loki and Frigga their bonding time, it just kind of freaked her out that they insisted on speaking about her. Her response was to glance at him as he slipped into the pool beside her. Only a smattering of light scars remained on his body, the bruising and blood long having disappeared. 

A few people remained within the baths, but none had noticed the presence of the prince. Whether this was because of intoxication or Odin’s orders, Alex would never know.

“I apologise.”

Alex frowned. “Please don’t.”

Confusion spilled across his face.

“You were asked to apologise by your mother. You do not mean it. The words are nothing.”

“You think me irredeemable, yet you let me fuck you?”

A short hiss of amusement left Alex’s lips. “I fuck you because I enjoy it. Because we enjoy it. S.H.I.E.L.D is full of people with objectionable moral codes, Loki. I am merely one of them.” Silence reigned for a moment before Alex spoke once more. “You have been seeing the queen, yes?”

“My mother, Thor and I have been dining together,” Loki admitted. “Of course Odin knows nothing.”

“And you discuss me.”

“Yes,” Loki nodded, his hand resting gently on her hip. “Though Thor has sworn not to say anything. He is... shocked... however.”

Anger bubbled within her as she pulled away. Typical freaking Loki. “I would have liked it if you asked me first.”

Loki shrugged. “I also told him of your mission.”

Before Alex could think, the palm of her hand collided with the damp surface of his cheek. “You git. You had no-”

Within seconds, her wrist was enclosed within his grasp. His eyes were wild. “He has promised to aid you. It seems Thor is as disgruntled with Asgardian attitudes toward Midgard as Director Fury undoubtedly is.” His lips scored a path from jaw to collarbone, causing her pale flesh to flush. “I have made you an additional ally, little one, you should be thankful.”

There was something in that indulgent tone so reminiscent of old Loki that Alex felt herself melt. Her back soon came to meet the side of the pool, Loki’s body trapping her. Fingers wrenched apart the clasp of her bra, sending the garment flying a few metres into the mist. The same fate awaited her knickers.

“I have already thanked you,” she moaned against his lips. 

Emerald eyes glimmered. “That you have, my Alexandra, partially.” Slowly, she found herself being lifted from the pool until her arse rested precariously on the stone ledge. With both hands, Loki spread her legs, his position within the water allowing him leverage as his tongue reached forward to taste her. 

“Not here, Loki, _please_.”

He responded by spreading her legs wider, kissing the tender flesh at the apex of her thighs before using both thumbs to expose her further. Tiny mewls escaped her lips as he tasted every portion of exposed skin, carefully avoiding the aching nub of her clitoris. Holding herself with one arm, she used her other hand to push him closer. His resulting chuckle caused her mewls to slip into moans. Even as the tendrils of pleasure assaulted her, Alex knew just how exposed they were. It was truly shameless. She had never felt so exposed... or aroused. Nipples ached as her breasts her arched higher, and more than anything she wished for Loki to take care of them too.

When finally she did come, Loki continued to lick and suck the ultra sensitive flesh until she could do nothing but climax a second time. Without wiping his chin, as was his usual practice, Loki kissed his way up her body, flicking both nipples with his tongue before capturing her mouth with his own. Her hips rasped against the stone as he pushed her back, crawling from the water.

“Ride me,” he ordered, rolling onto his back. Alex found herself straddling him, the hard shaft of his cock pressed against her lower back. 

Alex shook her head. “Please Loki, I _can’t_. I’m too...”

_“Now._ ”

Her eyes never leaving his face, Alex lowered herself down onto his waiting cock. Every inch he filled sensitised her further. 

“ _Faster_.” 

Alex bucked and twisted on his hips, eyes closed, head thrust back, caring little now that those remaining within the baths could see her. Loki’s hands reached up to cup her breasts, moans leaving his throat. 

With a sharp gasp, her inner walls tightened around him, milking him of his own louder climax. “Alexandra!”

Sighing, Alex came to rest on his chest, his softening length still deep within her. “Fuck me.”

Loki grinned through his sharp breaths. “I believe I just did that, darling.”


	19. Friends with Benefits

**Chapter Nineteen  
Friends with Benefits**

Golden hued days blended, weeks fluttered past as idly as stray birds caught in the wind. Alex barely noted the passing of time, the churning tide of the Asgardian seasons. Her journal burst with activity, yet no dates adorned the crinkled pages. Days were spent exploring every nook and cranny of the Asgardian plateau. No market place had been left untouched, no shop unvisited. She had even skirted around the ends of the same swathe of trees that had cruelly robbed Jane of her chance for immortality.

While these experiences were ever vivid, they could barely compare to the sinful indulgence of night. Alex could barely breathe as she recollected an incident several nights before, when Loki had sucked and licked wine from her flushed skin, dribbling the dark liquid into the cleft of her sex before removing it with a deft flick of his tongue.

Every brush of his fingers was like fire, the lewd words that left his tongue only providing fuel. She knew it to be an illness; one that ought to stop, but many days had passed since she ceased fighting her dark inclinations. Loki only enjoyed it more if she struggled against him. In these instances he would usually take her from behind, fingers digging into her hips, filthy groans spilling from his lips. She liked him this way, and so she struggled frequently.

Yet despite the sights and the sex, Alex found herself missing the tiny things about home. The smell of books in her apartment, the crass noise from the pub across the street, early morning runs along the foreshore of Lake Burley-Griffin, fresh espresso coffee, desserts at Ruby’s, huge slices of American-style pizza on the lakefront with colleagues. It was pathetic really. Even on Earth she had spent little time in Canberra, but strangely, Asgard reminded her of the city. The architecturally unique buildings, sweeping gardens, striking fountains. Canberra even had a lascivious nature, playing host to the largest adult shops in Australia. 

Her mind awash with these thoughts, Alex slipped out of bed, sweeping Loki’s arm away from her hip. It had been many months since he had ventured to his own chambers, preferring instead to occupy a small portion of hers. Several drawers now contained his underclothes and the pants in which he underwent his punishment. His armour gleamed in the corner, the more casual style hanging beside her Asgardian gowns in the wardrobe. To some, the arrangement may have seemed domestic, but Alex thought of it more as practical. 

Loki’s sleep was not disturbed, and for this she was eternally grateful. Had his eyes flittered open, she knew she would soon find herself beneath him. 

Her laptop hummed to life, welcoming her with a happy, albeit loud, spring of noise. Alex snapped back to Loki. He continued to sleep.

She did not know why she was drawn to her computer. These days she used it solely for her correspondence with Fury, the files carried down to Midgard via the ever helpful Thor. In a way, the entire operation seemed like some sordid conspiracy. But her latest report was written. Thor had taken it that morning. It had been one of the few moments when Alex had seen him truly happy. His infectious grin lit up the surrounding area, ecstatic that he would be spending the next few days with his beloved Jane. 

Idly, Alex opened a word document. As a child, she would weave tales of wonder, of heroes and demons, goblins and princesses. Such frivolities had taken her mind from the throes of everyday. But now inspiration of a different kind hit her. She wondered idly how Loki would feel, being her muse. Would he be horrified? Or would it bring a mischievous quirk to his lips? Would his appreciation come in the form of several minutes doting by his delicious tongue?

The cursor blinked on the fresh page, a temptation. Slowly, her fingers lowered to the keyboard, when... _bleep!_

The beep was loud, but fortunately not loud enough to wake her lover. A small notification box popped up in the left hand corner. Skype.

But surely not? There was no internet. Upon arriving in Asgard, she had not bothered signing out of her social applications. What was the point? Gently, she clicked on the notification.

_Tony “Lady-Killer” Stark: Agent Beckett, testing, testing, one two three._

The small wodge of text flashed for a moment. Alex shrugged, typing a response.

_Alex: Stark, what the hell?_

_Tony: Finally established the internet. Awesome, huh?_

_Alex: Yes, but how?_

_Tony: Don’t flower me with too much gratitude, Alex dearest. My head might explode._

_Alex: Hahahaha, too late for that. How is this possible?_

_Tony: Lots of complicated things involving the bi-frost, the position of the sun, cables, Jarvis, my amazing brain, you know. What matters now is that you can play on facebook and tweet Tom Hiddleston, or whatever you young people do these days._

_Alex: I have never tweeted anyone in my life. Who is Tom Hiddleston?_

_Tony: You have got to be fucking kidding me. Even I know who Tom Hiddleston is! In fact, he’s coming to my party on Thursday night._

_Alex: You’re having a party and I’m not invited?_

_Tony: Thought it might be a little difficult with you being on a different planet and all._

_Alex: Bi Frost._

_Tony: Yeah, because Odin is really going to let you use the bi frost just so you can come down here and flirt with Tom Hiddleston._

_Alex: Who the fuck is Tom Hiddleston?!?_

_Tony: You really live in a box, don’t you?_

_Alex: No, I live on the opposite side of the galaxy. Besides, it sounds to me like you have a bit of a crush on this Tom Hiddleston... does Pepper know?_

_Tony: :S_

_Alex: Was that an emoticon Tony? My estimation of your IQ has dropped significantly._

_Tony: :S_

_Alex: Hehehehehe. Apart from the awesomeness of internet access (thanks by the way!), is there any other reason you are hassling me at 3.30am in the morning?_

_Tony: Oh yeah, that._

_Alex: ????_

_Tony: The gang are coming up to visit. Thought you may like to know._

_Alex: Awesome. Any reason?_

_Tony: Sussing out Thor’s pad for one. Oh, and nicking some blood off Loki._

_Alex: Blood?_

_Tony: Twenty questions much? You’ll find out when we get there, all top secret and shit. Can’t really talk about it on skype._

_Alex: Right._

_Tony: Do Australians speak in words that are more than one syllable?_

_Alex: Racism is not a virtue, Tony! Okay, I look forward to seeing you. Can I sleep now?_

_Tony: Yep. Enjoy the internet. Don’t forget to check out Tom Hiddleston on google. He does this thing with a moustache..._

_Alex: Enough with the-_

_Tony: And his Owen Wilson impression is hilarious!_

_Alex: Do you ever actually work, Stark?_

_Tony: Nighty-night Agent Beckett._

Alex smirked, signing out of Skype. It was only then, she noticed the silent figure standing behind her.

“Who is Tom Hiddleston?”

“Loki, I seriously have no idea.” Alex’s smirk morphed into a grin. Loki’s stance and voice were stained with jealousy, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of his palms. Alex ignored him, flicking her fingers across the keypad to shut down the laptop. 

“So Stark wants my blood?”

A cocked eyebrow was all he received. “All of Midgard wants your blood, Loki. But yes, in the literal sense.”

“Not _all_ of Midgard,” Loki purred, uncurling his fists. Alex rose from her position, onto to find herself bent over the desk, mere millimetres away from her slumbering computer. Large, open hands scooped up the lacy folds of her nightgown, exposing her bare arse to the night air. The window was open, and the cool fronds of breeze felt intoxicating on her exposed flesh.

Loki languidly drew his tongue along one plump cheek, biting the dampened skin hard, before proceeding to the next. Her legs were wrenched apart, exposing the shameless deep pink cavern of her core. Loki thrust quickly, unexpectedly, the force causing the edge of the desk to bruise her soft skin. 

“You are _mine_ , not _his_!” Loki snapped, his thrusts quickening in momentum. “ _Say it_!”

Alex’s voice emerged a short whimper. “I am yours.”

oOoOoOo

Several days later, Loki found himself nestled within his mother’s chambers. His brother had returned from Midgard, the residual joy from his liaison with Jane Foster somewhat stifling. The God of Thunder was sprawled across an ornate loveseat, partaking heavily in the platter placed before him. Frigga and Loki had chosen harder seats, picking at tiny morsels of the food Thor chose to leave them.

“I do not understand why you will not bring Alexandra to our dinners, Loki.” The disapproval in Frigga’s voice was palpable. Loki scowled.

“It is hardly appropriate for me to bring my mistress to dine with the queen.”

Thor chuckled. “Mistress, brother? I was under the impression Alexandra was your, how did Lady Darcy put it, _fuck_ buddy.”

“Thor!” Frigga spluttered in her wine. Loki erupted with laughter.

“I have clearly been a negative influence on you, brother, or perhaps that was Miss Lewis?”

Thor laughed. “It matters not! You should bring Lady Alex. I enjoy her company.”

Loki winked. “Not so much as I, I suspect.”

Frigga allowed a smile to grace her features, albeit a small one. “I do not understand how I came to raise such lewd sons. Perhaps Alexandra could dine with us next week?”

“Splendid,” boomed Thor, guzzling yet another tipple of wine. “I look forward to conversing further with your delightful fuck buddy, brother!”

Frigga winced, causing Loki to interject. “I think it best if we find another term to describe Alexandra’s and my... _relationship_. Perhaps, _friends with benefits?_ ”

“That will do,” the queen sighed, partaking deeply of her cup. “I shall look forward to it.”


	20. Awkward Moments

**Chapter Twenty  
Awkward Moments**

Her chambers were in utter disarray. Gowns of various hues were draped over chairs, thrown on the coverlet or lay like autumn leaves on the floor. It appeared as though every gown in Asgard littered the room, yet the mortal remained naked before the mirror. Loki navigated the sea of silk with a bemused smirk, eventually laying a hand on her hip. “Undergarments are probably a good start,” he purred, as his hands snaked up her body to cup a breast. “Though I do enjoy you in this state.”

Alex slapped the hand away, scowling at him through the reflection. “Being a perve is not helping, Loki.”

“You need not worry so much.”

“Not worry?” Alex wrenched herself from his grasp to look disparagingly into the nearly empty wardrobe. “I am dining with the queen and crown prince of freaking Asgard. Of course I’m freaking worrying.”

“You dine with a prince every night,” Loki retorted, smirk not leaving his face, “and on one.”

“You don’t count. You’re just a seedy git. Your mother and Thor are _not_.”

“Oh, I would not be so sure about Thor.” Loki’s smirk widened. “After all, he refers to you as my _fuck buddy_.”

Alex laughed, despite the fact she was now in a state of panic. The idea of Thor saying _fuck buddy_ was a thing of great hilarity in itself. This momentary elation was short lived, however. While she had never been one to care about what others thought of her, Alex was still a creature wrought by nerves. She felt them profoundly before interviews and interrogations, and in a way, she suspected dinner with Frigga would be a bit of both. She was also mildly terrified of conversing with Thor in an atmosphere where her relationship with Loki could not be ignored.

“Wear this.” Loki’s voice finally cut through her personal reverie. A swab of silk was thrown at her. It was a shift of forest green, almost sheer and shockingly low-cut as was the fashion among the young of Asgard. Alex shot him a dark look. 

“Because nothing screams “I’m Loki’s personal whore” like this dress.”

“You _are_ my personal whore, little one. My mother knows it, Thor knows it, and if you wear this dress, I will know it too.”

oOoOoOo

The smile that graced the eternally beautiful features of Queen Frigga seemed perfectly genuine to Alex. She could do nothing but smile in return. The green gown seemed indecent under the scrutiny of the queen, and Alex felt the strangest urge to slap Loki across the face for ‘suggesting’ she wear it.

“It is an absolute delight to see you, my dear.” Frigga gently kissed Alex’s cheeks, gesturing for her to sit on the opposing chair. “I was beginning to think my son would never invite you.”

Alex did not exactly know how to respond to this, her eyes drifting toward the son in question. Loki sat casually on a love seat by the window, his legs spread wide. He always sat this way, but it somehow seemed more obscene in the company of his mother.

“I thank you for inviting me, majesty.”

Frigga handed her a cup of wine. “Please Alexandra, call me Frigga.”

“Frigga.” The word seemed odd on her tongue, yet Alex could not help but feel privileged. She suspected she was one of the few in Asgard with permission to call the queen such. 

“I suspect my son had something to do with your choice of attire this evening?”

Alex blushed, a stain of red splashing across her skin, clashing terribly with the hue of her gown. A quick glance at Loki only intensified her embarrassment. A smirk distorted his handsome face; his legs, if possible, stretched wider. Alex bit the mouthful of profanities she yearned to throw at him: git and wanker the least offensive among them. Somehow, she did not think this would improve the queen’s opinion of her. 

“I planned to wear something a little more modest, but Loki was stubborn.”

Frigga laughed. “Ah yes, both of my sons are known for their stubbornness. It has been that way since they were children. I remember, when Loki was very young, it took me many years to convince him that princes wear trousers, not skirts.”

“MOTHER!” It was now Loki’s turn to blush. Alex could not hold back the stream of giggles that left her mouth. The dark glint in Loki’s eyes made it very clear that she would pay for her giggles at the conclusion of the dinner. 

Any further tales of Loki’s propensity for cross-dressing were soon pushed aside with the arrival of Thor. Alex was disappointed. She was hoping the queen might breach the topic of Loki’s shape shifting abilities. His appearance as Lady Loki was, apparently, breathtaking. 

“Lady Alex!” Thor’s booming voice seemed to resonate from every surface of the room. She was scooped into a somewhat familial hug that made her wonder whether or not Thor had been drinking with Sif and the Warriors before joining them. 

As always, there was a small shard of sadness mingled with Thor’s joviality. As much as he loved his home, his family and his friends; everything reminded him that under the current regime, he would never be with Jane. 

Despite the undercurrent of sadness, dinner ended up being a thoroughly pleasant affair. The food was delicious: huge platters brimming with sweet meats, bread, fruit, vegetables and legumes. Meat was provided for Thor and Loki, though Frigga chose to nibble on the vegetarian options with Alex. Much to Alex’s surprise, the queen was fascinated by Australia, one of the few places in Midgard she had never visited. Thor, who had spent several weeks at Geraldine station, was happy to interject every now and again with tales of jumping beasts and soil the colour of flame.

The only person who did not speak much was Loki. Boredom was etched into his every movement. While Loki may have taken great interest in her body, he had never seemed particularly keen to discover more of her past. 

It was not until the wine had gone and the tiny smattering of food left on the platters was cleared by the servants, that Frigga breached the topic of Alex and Loki. 

“Alexandra, do you believe Loki deserves further punishment on Midgard?”

It was a question that made Alex thirst for more wine, not just to dull the senses, but also moisten her suddenly dry throat. The question itself did not call for a simple answer; it yearned for an entire essay. It had been a year, but Midgard still called for vengeance upon he who had attacked it. Loki had been the one to open the greater human population up to the idea that extra-terrestrials did exist and unfortunately, most of them would be happy to annihilate the human race. The US and Germany in particular were keen to see justice. Only recently, a S.H.I.E.L.D agent had lost his job for drunkenly revealing the Geraldine project to the patrons of a pub in Perth, Western Australia. Now S.H.I.E.L.D also had to contend with a furious Australian public, determined to know why _they_ had to share their country with the monster, Loki.

But what about _her_?

There was only one answer, and she doubted it was the one either Frigga or Loki wanted to hear.

“Yes.”

Frigga seemed to take a while to absorb the answer. Even Thor seemed knocked from his wine induced stupor. The queen sipped her wine thoughtfully. “Yes?”

Alex fought back the uncontrolled urge to run out of the room. “Loki feels guilt for what he did here, but he does not care about the lives he took on Earth. Until he does, I feel punishment is the only option.”

“But what of your _relations_ with him?”

“What I personally feel for Loki does not change the fact that thousands of people back home want to see justice.”

Frigga frowned. “I thought you were of the opinion that my son’s punishment was not in aid of his reform, yet you want it to be extended?”

The grave had been dug, now all Alex had to do was lie in it. “His punishment here in Asgard has done little to reform him. Loki has not changed. Every night he does what he likes, with little repercussion. At Geraldine, we hope he will provide us with information.”

“I will do no such thing.” Loki’s voice was the epitome of dark, his expression murderous. He had moved from the loveseat now, his slick steps taking him toward the door. Alex watched his retreating back.

“I hope you do. I don’t want you to be in prison for my whole life.”

Loki did not reply, shutting the door in his wake. No doubt, he would sulk and brood, before returning to Alex’s chambers to ‘punish’ her. The queen’s expression seemed to soften somewhat, perhaps influenced by the tone of sadness in Alex’s voice.

“You love him, don’t you?”

“No.”

Frigga smiled. “I think you do. You simply do not know it yet."


	21. No Prince Charming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter caused a bit of a stir when I first posted it. It shows Alex at her weakest. Very much lending toward the land of dub-con.

**Chapter Twenty-One  
No Prince Charming**

_I think you do. You simply do not know it yet._

Frigga’s words proved an unwelcome companion as Alex navigated the labyrinthine halls of Odin’s palace. She wished she could simply dismiss them as the idle ramblings of a hopeful mother. The queen made no secret of the fact that she wished her sons would wed, would find love, even if this love came in the form of a mortal. Yet her respect for the queen counteracted this dismissal. Frigga was no fool, and according to the gossip of the citadel, she was well versed in the Sight. 

But _love?_

Romantic love was a foreign concept to Alex. While she saw others trapped within its grasp, she had never fallen into that trap herself. Every relationship she engaged in was purely sexual. She was not even sure if she could call what she had with her family _love_. Would she even be able to recognise the feeling should it take her? If she _did_ love Loki, what did that say about _her_? Seven billion people on Earth, and she would be the one to fall in love with the _alien_ who tried to enslave them?

_Don’t be an idiot, Beckett._

It was a simple enough mantra, and one that had suited Alex well throughout the years. She could not love Loki. It was wrong. It was against everything she believed in. The thought was not even worth entertaining.

Uttering a short, audible sigh, Alex turned a sharp left, narrowly avoiding a passionate couple pressed against the cool wall. The lovers did not notice her, but she was still relieved (and thankful) that Frigga had loaned her a thin, beautiful wrap from her own wardrobe. The last thing she needed was to be traversing the corridors in naught but Loki’s whorish dress. 

Her chosen path was by far the longest back to her chambers. It took her through dusty unused passages, halls filled with glimmering fire buckets, the balcony overlooking the training yards (now brimming with drinking couples). The detour worked as a balm, preparation for what would undeniably happen upon her return. She could see his face clearly in her mind. His thin, well-formed lips would be pressed in anger; emerald eyes glinting with unrestrained threat. What she hated the most was the fact that this thought did not only terrify her, she also found it _arousing._

Eventually the paths of the detour all ended in one location: before the monolithic polished doors of her chambers. They were slightly ajar, golden light stabbing through into the outer passageway. Pushing the door only slightly, Alex slipped through this gap, snapping the door shut in her wake.

A cool breeze caressed the flaming lamps, swept in through the chasm of an open window. It was against the sill of this window that Loki was leaning. He had removed the upper layers of his clothing, leaving him in naught but the perfectly-tailored black pants he had worn to dinner. Fingers of raven hair danced around his pale face, their silent music provided by the breeze. 

“Alexandra.”

His voice cut across the silence, causing her to stop in her tracks. 

“Yes. Were you expecting someone else?”

Emerald eyes diverted from the view, now drilling into hers. “I am not in the mood. Undress.”

“I will do no such thing.”

A sneer curled his lips. “How could you be so insolent?”

“Insolent?” Alex’s eyebrows shot up. “Loki, to be insolent implies that I consider you better than me. I do not.”

The distance between them was broken in three of his strides. “I _am_ above you. I am a god, you foolish little mortal.”

“You speak like this, yet wonder why I think you deserve punishment on Midgard? I really don’t have time for...”

She turned toward the bathroom, but long thin fingers clutched her shoulder, holding her in place. “You will _make_ time, Alexandra.” With a single push, she was pressed face first into the wardrobe doors. Frigga’s shift was discarded, the skirts of her forest green gown lifted. 

“If you even think of spanking me, Loki, I swear to the gods I will make it impossible for you to ever have children again.”

“Oh, Alexandra, I have no intention of giving you that much pleasure,” Loki growled, pushing apart her legs with his knee. Fingers gripped her hair, pulling it from the ornate bun she had spent so long creating mere hours before. With a sharp thrust he sheathed himself, thrusting hard, uncaring. Alex whimpered as handles of the wardrobe dug into her stomach. It did not take long for Loki to come undone. His body rested against hers only momentarily before he pulled away, throwing her unceremoniously to the floor. “If you think me such a monster, I shall start behaving like one.”

Alex found herself lifting her legs to her chest, curling into as tight a ball as was humanely possible. She could hear his footsteps, the creak of the opening door and the subsequent slam as he closed it.

oOoOoOo

The moment the dark cedar clicked shut, Loki found himself overwhelmed with a thoroughly unwelcome flood of regret. He had always been a rough lover, callous, crass, but never had he been cruel. In his more innocent days, his dalliances with the fairer sex had always been painted with streams of laughter. When _had_ he become a monster?

He knew eventually he would have to return. Everything that meant anything to him: physically, psychologically, material and immaterial was enclosed within Alexandra’s chambers. Frowning, he tried to scour the image of her curled on the floor from his mind. Helpless, helpless, so helpless. His Alexandra should never be _helpless!_

_His_ Alexandra?

The toe of his boot collided with a fire bucket, sending the tube of oil, coal and flame skidding across the golden floor. Several servants rushed forward to prepare the damage, none looking at the instigator, as though acknowledging the prince burned more painfully than the raging flames. 

Eventually, he found himself standing once more before his mother’s chambers. He wondered whether she would be alone. He was, after all, less inclined toward Thor’s company at the moment. He knocked reluctantly, barely hearing the light “enter” from deep within the room.

Frigga was now clad in her nightgown; the golden haze of her hair trailing down her back in untamed curls. Everything from the hue of her hair, to the periwinkle glint of her eyes reminded him of Thor. Yet, the love that filled her gaze as she found him in her doorway, assured Loki that she, despite blood, was _his_ mother also.

“My son, what brings you here? Alexandra-?”

“Will, I fear, no longer desire to see me.” Loki could not stop the waver in his voice. This weakness infuriated him. He had never been _weak._ Frigga’s long, comforting arms wrapped around his shoulders.

“What has been done?”

Well, at least she had not said _what have you done?_

Loki sunk into the embrace, and before he knew it, tears stained his cheeks. 

“I am a fool, mother.”

Frigga pulled out of the hug, shooting him a kindly bemused look. “This is something of which I am already aware, my darling son. Now will you tell me what has happened?”

“Alexandra returned to her chambers, and I took her, forcefully. I did not even give her a chance to speak. You should have seen her-” Loki fell onto the bed, trembling. 

Frigga frowned. “Has this happened before?”

Loki allowed himself a moment to think, still horrified by his reaction. “Have I taken her forcefully? Yes. I have also taken her without spoken consent. But this was different...”

“Why?”

It only occurred to Loki at this moment how immensely awkward it was speaking to his mother about his intimate life. Had he informed Thor, however, he suspected he may have endured Mjolnir to the face. The queen, it seemed, did not require an answer to her question. 

“Is it different now because you _feel_ something for Alexandra?”

Loki recoiled. “Are you insinuating that I _love_ her?”

At this, Frigga smiled softly. “It may interest you to know that Alexandra had a similar adverse reaction when I insinuated that she love you.”

“If she loves me, she is an idiot. I am a monster.”

“If you are such a monster, my son, why did you come here burdened with remorse?”

oOoOoOo

Her chambers reeked of acrid fumes, originating from the swathe of emerald silk crackling in the smoking hearth. The embroidered shawl she had used to cover the obscene garment was folded neatly at the foot of her immaculately made bed. His Alexandra was evidently in the bathroom, fronds of scented steam sneaking from beneath the shimmering doorway. Loki wrapped long fingers around the slippery doorhandle, letting himself in.

He could barely see the mortal through the haze of steam and the white fluffy layer of perfumed foam that floated atop the water’s surface. She had once described it as her Harry Potter tub, a reference, apparently to a similar tub within a fictional Midgardian realm. 

Her skin was dark pink: whether from scrubbing or the temperature of the water, he did not know. 

“I am sorry.”

His words sounded pathetic, a sentiment she clearly shared. “No you are not.”

Loki had to bite his tongue to refrain from calling her insolent. “And how exactly do you know that, Alexandra?”

“Because you are incapable of being sorry.” 

As quick as possible, Loki stripped of his pants and boots, stepping into the piping hot water. It smelt disgustingly feminine, but he failed to care. “What do you mean by that?”

She shrugged. “You regret doing things, but you are never sorry for it.”

“Is that not the same thing?”

“I don’t think so.”

Launching herself from the side of the tub, she came to him in a couple of short strokes. In the dull lighting, her wet tallow hair appeared almost light brown. Grey eyes bore into his. Tentatively, he leant in to kiss her jaw. Much to his surprise, she did not pull away.

“Are you angry with me?”

“Uncontrollably.” 

“Why are you doing this, then?”

He watched the emotions dancing across her face: trepidation, sadness, elation, arousal. Finally she rested at impassive. “Because I am weak.”


	22. Laurifer Diligo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know Sigyn technically translates to "Victorious Girlfriend", but in this case I just didn't feel that the Asgardians of the Marvel Universe would use the word _girlfriend_. So I took some creative liberties. The title of this chapter is actually latin for Victorious Lover. I'm pulling a Tom Hiddleston on you!

**Chapter Twenty-Two  
Laurifer Diligo**

It was a lofty position, a tiny balcony thrust from the eastern flank of Odin’s citadel. A delicate breeze swept around Alex, rustling the fronds of her golden hair, causing the hem of the periwinkle gown to dance around her ankles. Her eyes consumed everything before her: the sprawling city, the raging seas far below the jutting platform of the Rainbow Bridge. Now more than ever, she could not help but admire just _how_ beautiful Asgard was. Had she been plagued by naivety, she may even have been able to imagine herself as some kind of fairytale princess, waiting for her handsome prince.

But her prince, while undoubtedly handsome, was nothing like the dashing noble creatures she had dreamed of in childhood. She wondered if he ever was.

His courtyard was in full view of the balcony, though the figure chained in its centre was smaller than an ant. Almost no one lingered in the yard any more. The residents of Asgard had long since lost interest in the traitor prince. More exciting news now graced their ears: the rumoured fall-out between the All-Father and his heir, the completion of the observatory, the imminent arrival of the Avengers: Midgard’s mightiest heroes.

That morning, her prince had departed without waking her, something for which Alex was eternally grateful. Though they had engaged in some light petting in the tub, Alex was less inclined to engage in anything more serious. The sensation of his hardness against her thigh had made her wince, a sensation she hoped soon to pass. 

_Because I am weak_.

Her own words haunted her. It was the complete truth, but this did not make it less shameful. Her affair with Loki had already revealed that she was a creature of little control, but last night, well that had proven she had _none_. What sort of self-respecting person allowed someone back into their bed after that? 

True enough, Loki had taken her roughly before. There had even been moments when she had been dubious of her own concession. Had he not pulled her into a wall cavity and spanked her? What of their first night together? 

Replaying these events, Alex could not help but reflect upon something Lucas Malory had told her the last time she had _been_ with him.

_You are a natural submissive, Alexandra. As soon as you realise this, the happier you will be._

Alex had said nothing to this, though her fury had raged beneath the calm veneer. Lucas was an idiot; a fool playing at being a dom. He had enjoyed controlling Alex, because she had always come across as dominant herself. It gave him power.

Yet compared to Loki, she could not help but feel that this personal _dominance_ , this self-control, this _independence_ was crumbling into nothing. Was this love, as Frigga suggested? Was this willingness to allow Loki to rape her, a symptom of the emotion she had fought so hard to avoid? If so, love was nothing like what she had read in her erotic books or seen in the Disney flicks. It was an illness, something that ought to be destroyed, not glorified. 

“My son told me what he has done.”

Alex had been contemplating leaving the balcony, now she _yearned_ to escape. The queen fell in beside her, hands resting on the golden banister. Frigga was getting a little too involved in her personal business lately, and as much as Alex liked the queen, she did not require a mother figure.

“Do you think you can forgive him?”

Alex frowned. No, yes, maybe. Perhaps she already had? She did not know. Loki made her mind a jumbled mess. He was a serious curse on her moral code. Frigga, it appeared, interpreted her silence as a simple “maybe”. 

“You fear he will do it again.”

“He will do it again.”

Frigga’s lips pursed, her own periwinkle gaze turning to the courtyard. “My son has always been a conflicted being, but he had never before taken a lover by force. It makes me wonder what happened to him in the year he was absent.”

“You haven’t asked him?” Alex could not hide the surprise in her voice. “I thought-”

“It is one topic Loki will not breach, or allow me to breach.” Frigga squeezed Alex’s hand, which seemed to be now gripping the banister. “But it does not excuse his actions, as I think he now realises.”

“Loki claims to be sorry, but he has committed many atrocities,” Alex replied, her voice stained with doubt. “Forcing me was nothing compared to what he did on Midgard. If he does not care for the hundreds of lives he took, how can he care for me?”

“Oh, but he does care for you. I have never seen him so... concerned... about a woman before.”

“If by concerned you mean ‘possessive’, that does not mean he cares for me.” Alex knew it was probably wise to hold her tongue before the queen, yet the words spilled forth anyway. 

“Loki is a complicated man, a dark man, Alexandra. He always has been and always will be. I will take someone special to deal with him.”

_It is official, the woman is deluded,_ Alex thought bitterly. “And you think that I am that woman.”

“You are his Sigyn.”

“Excuse me?”

The queen smiled softly. “In your tongue it means ‘victorious lover’.”

It was a peculiar statement to say the least. Alex watched as the queen departed the balcony, the train of her pale green dressed flicking around the corner. _Victorious lover, indeed_. She felt anything _but_ victorious.

oOoOoOo

The rest of the day passed by in a haze of mixed feelings. Alex knew that, with the Avengers arriving the following day, her mind was better spent contemplating their visit. Yet, as soon as her mind drifted away from Loki, something would happen to remind her of him. The sun would glint on his armour in the corner, the scent of the flowers from his courtyard would spill through her window, his name would show up in a text she was reading.

More than anything, she feared his return. Not because she was afraid of a repeat of the following night. No. Now she would always be on guard for that. Sif had taught her enough to at least escape should she suspect. What she feared was that she might _let_ him.

So it was that by the time night fell she was writhing ball of nerves. What would he say when he arrived back to find everything he had deposited within her chambers piled up by the door? Would he be violent?

The doors to her chambers creaked open, and Loki entered. As per usual, he ventured straight for the bathroom without a second glance. The taps turned, the water started to cascade. Alex’s mind rang with mental images of his pale skin, lathered with soap... _No_!

Twenty minutes passed before Loki emerged from the bathroom, fluffy towel wrapped around his waist, another being used to dry his hair. It was only now that his eyes fell upon the pile of belongings. Before he could speak, Alex threw a small bundle of clothing at him. “You will dress and then you will leave.”

“What is the meaning of this?” His voice was as quiet as it had been the night before; laced with threat yet at the same time she could pick up a hint of confusion.

“I want you gone.”

“Alexandra, you have said this before.”

“ _Now_ I mean it,” she snarled. “You will not come near me, not _touch_ me unless I give you permission.”

The clothes fell to the ground as he strode toward her. She danced out of his way. 

“Is this about last night? I did apologise.”

Alex almost laughed. “Your apologies mean nothing, Loki. I was pathetic last night, tonight I am not.”

Loki made no move to come near her now. His face was completely void of emotion, his eyes shadowed. His raven locks had started to curl as they dried, falling in delicate hoops around his eyes.

“You do not want this, Alexandra.”

“You’re damned right I don’t want this!” Alex’s knew she was screaming, but she did not care. She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to hit him. She wanted him to suffer. “Just like I don’t want to be stuck in a destructive – _thing_ – with a masochistic fucking alien who doesn’t give two flying fucks about me, my planet or my people.” _And because I love you, you fucking git, and I really don’t want to._

Loki did not reply. Swiftly he downed the towel, slipping the clothes onto his still damp body. Grabbing a large armful of his belongings, Loki turned to face her. “You will beg for me to come back, mortal.”

And with that he left, slamming the door in his wake.


	23. The Nearest Mountain

**Chapter Twenty-Three  
The Nearest Mountain**

It was a haven of green. The boughs of the trees were awash with it, a thick carpet of moss covering every rock and root. Golden sunlight pierced through the canopy, bathing them in hushed tones of emerald. It was truly one of the most beautiful places Alex had ever seen. Unlike the shadowed labyrinth of the Dark Woods, the Enchanted Forest was just that: enchanted. According to Thor, the swathe of trees contained the winding path through which the goddess Iðunn traversed to deliver her apples. To Alex, it seemed sacrilegious to venture into such a place with the intent to hunt. Yet, when Thor had suggested she accompany the swollen hunting party, she had been loath to say no.

Though she had little intention to hunt herself (many months in Asgard had not renewed her taste for the flesh of animals), the idea of Tony Stark camping amused her a great deal. The Avengers had arrived in a flash of activity; their first few days spent exploring everything that Alex had previously shown the scientific contingent. They had yet to be allowed before the prisoner, something for which Alex was eternally grateful. She had been avoiding Loki’s courtyard like the plague. 

Yet despite the separation, Loki was a canker on her mind. His voice, his smell, his _touch_ haunted her, tortured her every moment. She had wanted him gone, and physically he had obeyed. Mentally, however, was a completely different matter.

On the morning of the Avengers arrival in Asgard, Alex had noted that the rest of Loki’s belongings had disappeared from her room. She had not heard anyone enter, but then, Loki was proficient at sneaking. More than anything, she was glad he had not woken her. The moment she had dressed, she had lugged the heavy wooden desk in front of Loki’s secret panel. 

Insanity had ensued from that moment onwards. Tony had spent a good thirty minutes gawking at the golden expanse of Odin’s palace, while Steve Rogers had blushed profusely every time a scantily clad Asgardian maiden had ventured past. Apparently buff super soldiers were the taste of choice in Asgard, as at the party that evening the Captain was surrounded by a small army of adoring lesser nobles. In spite, Fandral had challenged him to a drinking contest, which resulted in the goateed warrior spread unconscious under a nearby table. 

And now they were _hunting_.

“Hunting, _seriously_?” The horror in Tony’s voice was palpable. Like always, the billionaire was observing one of the subtle hints of technology in the citadel. “You people really need to open up a BK.” At the look of serious confusion on Thor’s face, Tony had elaborated. “You know _Burger King_. Cheeseburgers. You’d never need to go hunting again.”

Alex had bit her tongue at this. She was pretty sure Tony already knew that the meat for cheeseburgers did not appear out of thin air.

Nevertheless, they were hunting. Or attempting too. The majestic game that weaved through the moss-flanked trees would probably have heard Tony from a mile off, clanking through the forest in his Iron Man armour. Apparently, the hunk of gold and scarlet alloy was the only thing that would protect him from leeches. 

“You Midgardians are very peculiar,” Volstagg boomed as they emerged into a clearing. “Do you not hunt in your lands? Nothing compares to the taste of a beast cooked over a roaring fire. The fat dripping into the flames! Washed down with the finest ale!”

Tony snorted. “Thanks for the visual, Gimli. I’ll be more than happy to munch on your char-grilled beast if you _find_ it.”

Alex was engulfed in a fit of giggles before she could help it. The other Avengers soon joined in, except for Steve, whose eyes widened with confusion. It was only then that Tony realised what he had said.

“You people have sick minds.”

“I do not understand,” Volstagg interjected. “If the man of Iron wishes to consume my beast, I shall find him one.”

Bruce Banner was now holding onto a tree branch to support himself, tears of mirth running down his cheeks. “Oh stop, please stop.”

oOoOoOo

It was after much deliberation that the hunting party decided to split. Clint and Natasha joined Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three on the hunt. The remaining Avengers set up camp in the clearing. It appeared that Steve and Bruce, like Alex, had camped in their youth, making up for any deficiencies on Tony’s part. Wood was collected, a fire finally lit with a helpful blast from Tony’s suit. As night fell, everything seemed almost idyllic.

_Almost_.

Alex did not fear the dark, but since her run-in with Loki, she now feared the _night_. Odin had not deemed it necessary to have his adopted son restrained during the night this time. Apparently, he perceived the Avengers as being more capable of restraining their violent urges toward him. Since she had asked him to leave, she had been ever conscious of shadows in the hall flanking her chambers, something lingering in the corners. 

But surely Loki would not follow her here? Into the Enchanted Forest? 

The hike itself would take many hours, and once he arrived he would not only have Asgard’s finest to contend with, but the warriors of Midgard too.

No, surely he would not bother. It would be insanity.

But then, Loki had shown a propensity for the insane. 

The hunting party returned soon after the final rays of sun ceased to grace them. They had been successful, a large plump stag resting on the shoulders of both Thor and Volstagg. The sharp obsidian hued arrow sticking from its jugular was evidence enough as to who made the kill. Clint seemed particularly smug.

Alex watched with a mixture of interest and disgust as the Warriors three prepared the animal for cooking. It was peculiar to think of Loki being a part of these hunting parties. What role did he play? Did he use magic to lure the game out of its hiding place? Was he skilled at dragging the knife beneath the beast’s skin? 

She did not dare ask, nor did she particularly want to. Loki was not meant to be lingering on her mind. 

Soon the air was filled with the scents of roasting meat, the sounds of raucous campfire songs. While Tony was not much of an outdoors man, it did appear he had a vast repertoire of lewd ballads, which after several mugs of Asgard’s finest, he shared generously.

Songs turned to ghost stories, a genre entirely lost on the Asgardians, whose experience with the dead and afterlife rendered them unable to think of the stories as anything but entirely truthful. When it came to those told by Natasha, they were not far off the mark.

“Oi, Kylie. It’s your turn to get the wood.”

_Oi? Kylie_? Alex rolled her eyes. “Kylie? Really, Tony, is that the best you’ve got.” In the week they had been there, Tony had already called her Crocodile Dundee, Steve Irwin, Hugh Jackman and Uluru. At least Kylie Minogue was female, _and alive._

“She’s blonde, and hot.”

Alex got to her feet. “Yeah, but she can sing. Trust me, I can’t sing.”

Thor shivered theatrically. “A truer word has never been spoken. Mating Bilgesnipe create a sound more pleasing to the ear.”

Switching on her torch, Alex shone it in Thor’s face. “Fuck you, Thor.”

As she disappeared between the boughs, she could not help but hear the God of Thunder’s booming, drunken laughter.

oOoOoOoOo

The fire was an all consuming beast, and in the search for wood, Alex found herself drawn away from the glowing light of the camp. She could still hear it: the songs and laughter trickling through the dense undergrowth.

“You should not be here alone, mortal.”

Alex dropped her armful of wood, almost dropping her torch as she broke into a run. No! Surely not. _Why?_

“Do not run from me, Alexandra.”

Loki appeared before her, his bare upper torso a mass of scratches and blood. He had evidently travelled quickly through the forest, not caring to duck beneath the more vicious of branches.

“Leave me alone, Loki.”

“I have _tried_.”

Long fingers reached to cup her chin, but she drew away. 

“Try harder.” 

The hand dropped to his side. “Do you expect me to beg? To drop down on my knees?”

“Loki, you will never kneel to me. Even if you did, it would not work.”

“Do you truly despise me that much?”

Alex growled, fighting back the urge to lay her fist to his ridiculously perfect face. “I don’t despise you, Loki. I want to, but I don’t. But it’s over. It’s never going to happen again. You saw to that the other night.”

“And if I were to promise never to do it again?”

“I would know you are lying.”

“Not everything I say is a lie, Alexandra.” His voice was so soft now; it could barely be heard over Thor’s thunderous singing. “The past week has been a torture.”

“ _A torture_?” Alex laughed. “The worst thing is, you don’t even know how much you deserve it! Oh, you may feel bad about raping me. But what about the children you have left without parents? The lovers you have separated. Hell, as far as I know you raped your fair share of my people while you were trying to take over my planet! I want you to go! Leave me alone!”

“I cannot do that.”

“GO! LEAVE ME ALONE!” 

The noise from the campfire was gone, her own shrill yell echoing through the forest. 

“How dare you speak to me like that!” Loki roared. “You are nothing more than a whorish little mortal, good for nothing but your quim. I am a God! You will treat me with respect!”

“Respect? You don’t deserve anyone’s respect.”

“You will kneel before me, you filthy little-!”

“Last time I checked, ladies don’t particularly like being spoken to like that.”

Alex almost cried at the familiar, soothing tones of Steve’s voice. Captain America, though still decked in his casual wear, had his shield before him. The look on his handsome face was utterly murderous. Within seconds, the bulk of human muscle had Loki pushed against a tree, pinned by the expanse of metal clutched in the Captain’s arms.

“Are you okay, Agent Beckett?”

Alex nodded meekly. 

A roar of light and sound alerted them to the appearance of Tony, whose Iron Man suit swayed dangerously under the influence of alcohol. 

“Rock of Ages, long time, no see.”

Loki merely sneered. 

“You know,” Tony quipped. “I’ve always meant to repay you for throwing me out that window. There’s a bit of a cliff a short walk from here. I’m happy to try it out if you are.”

Steve looked up from his captive. “Tony, perhaps you could help me take him back to the campsite?”

“Saved by the bell.” Tony grabbed Loki’s body while Steve wrapped his arms to the back. Loki did not struggle, his eyes aimed at Alex the entire time. She could do nothing but look at him, lower lip trembling, her eyes stained with tears.

oOoOoOo

“What is the meaning of this?” It seemed to be Thor’s favourite turn of phrase, his deep voice caressing every syllable as though it were a seductive shard of poetry. “Brother?”

“Found Lord Voldemort here trying to get our little Australian to kneel,” Tony replied, lifting the mask of his armour. “Nasty habit he has there, I thought you were supposed to be knocking that out of him?”

Thor ignored him, grabbing Loki’s shoulders. “Brother, why are you here?”

“You know why I am here.”

Loki’s voice was liquid fury, causing the Cap to tighten the grip on his wrists.

Tony poked him in the cheek with an armoured finger. Under any other circumstances, Alex may have found the action amusing. “We don’t. Care to tell us?”

The members of the hunting party were now on full alert. Sif and the Warriors Three had their weapons ready; though it was clear they were trying _not_ to acknowledge the prince’s presence. Bruce was standing back, while Natasha had her gun pointed straight at Loki’s head. Clint had an arrow at the ready, the point directed at Loki’s eye socket, a gleeful smirk on his lips.

Thor frowned. “Brother, coming here will solve _nothing_.”

Alex almost gasped. Thor _knew_? And he said nothing? She reminded herself to kick him square in the balls next time the opportunity arose.


	24. Blood

**Chapter Twenty-Four  
Blood**

His knees collided with the polished stone of the balcony, bone and muscle aching upon impact. An exclamation of pain was barely able to leave his lips before Thor grabbed his collar, slamming him against a nearby pillar. Loki recognised the hall all too well. It flanked the throne room, a forest of golden pillars that seemed to stretch for eternity. At one end, fire pits allowed their dancing flames to illuminate shimmering walls. The other looked out over a balcony, revealing the vast expanse of Odin’s immediate realm.

In the past he had found it a contemplative location. Now, it was his prison. Why Thor had thought it necessary to bring him here eluded him. Of course, it was necessary to remove him from the presence of the self-proclaimed Avengers, but why not take him to his own chambers?

“Am I not even permitted to accompany you hunting, brother?” he gasped through Thor’s hold. “I thought we had-”

“Silence Loki.” Thor’s low rumbling boom echoed throughout the pillars. Perhaps the God of Thunder had brought him here for theatrical purposes? The thought may have brought Loki more amusement had his neck been in a less precarious situation. “What were you thinking following us into the Enchanted Forest? Have you become entirely bereft of sane thought? In the past I envied your mind, but your actions this night have revealed you as naught more than a fool.”

“Fighting words, indeed, coming from you,” Loki breathed. The pressure in his head was almost unbearable now, but fortunately Thor let go. As much as Loki wished to remain standing, his aching body slipped to the floor.

“Brother, why are you incapable of redemption? For a moment there I thought -”

“You thought wrong,” Loki spat, green eyes flitting up to meet periwinkle. “How do you expect me to embrace reform when the mortals will keep me locked away for eternity?”

“You think too harshly of the mortals, Loki. Perhaps in time they will learn to see your merits, not your faults.”

“Now it is you being the fool, Thor. I killed hundreds of them, perhaps even thousands. Do you honestly believe they will ever forgive me?”

“Alexandra does.”

Momentarily, Loki’s face fell at this. “Not anymore.”

“Your actions this evening have done _nothing_ to mend the rift between you Loki. Only widen it. Why did you come?”

“I _need_ her.” Loki did not know where the words originated, and he loathed them. More specifically, he hated the look of pity that now swept across Thor’s features. 

“You are a fool, Loki. A damned fool!”

The prince sat up, glaring at his fairer brother. The ache in his knees was starting to dissipate now, the bruising on his throat naught more than a hindrance. “Why do you care so much, Thor?”

“I care because I envy you, brother,” Thor snarled, wrapping his fingers tighter around Mjolnir’s handle. “As heir to the throne I am robbed of every chance to be with Jane. Yet you have the freedom to love whomever you desire, whether she be mortal or Aesir. Yet you squander that away as though it means nothing! And then tonight you endanger things further by almost revealing your relations to the Midgardians. Do you not know that to them this would be considered treason? She would lose everything Loki. Is that what you want?”

_No_. “I care little.”

Thor knelt before him, eyes sparkling with tears. “Then I fear you will never earn your freedom, Brother. This saddens me.”

“ _Be_ saddened.”

oOoOoOoOo

“Sooooo, care to tell us why you and Reindeer Games are on speaking terms?”

Alex had been waiting for this question. Ever since Thor and Loki had disappeared into the night sky, she had known that attention would eventually fall on her. Admittedly, she thought it would be Steve Rogers doing the interrogation, but Tony Stark? 

“He has confronted me several times at night,” Alex admitted, her voice hushed. Nevertheless, everyone in the retreating entourage heard. Sif and the Warrior’s Three gaped at her, horror clearly painted upon their faces.

Volstagg was the first to speak. “Lady Alex, you should come to me immediately! I would have-!”

“I did not want to make a fuss.” Alex interjected quietly. “It was nothing.” It was a lie, pure and simple, but Alex felt that she may have learned something from the God of Lies himself. The walk back to the palace was painful, everyone slightly more awkward than was comfortable. It certainly did not help that this was the day Tony had allotted to collecting the prisoner’s blood. As much as she wished to avoid Loki after the previous night’s _incident_ , she knew she would be expected to attend. 

Why, though, completed eluded her. It was an entirely scientific procedure, and as much as Alex loved science, it was not exactly her field of expertise. Her role was simply to observe: her original purpose in Asgard. She had never grown tired of observing Loki, in every way she possibly could, but now she was afraid to do so.

Her chambers still seemed foreign and cold without him. She missed his scent, the glimmering armour in the corner, the layer of his clothing in the wardrobe. She even missed the eternal game of hide and seek with her chocolate stash (which Loki always seemed to be able to find in the end). It had been such a small snippet of time. A blissful moment in which her relationship with Loki had seemed healthy, where it appeared as though he had a chance for redemption. But now she knew it was all a lie. The eye of the storm. Loki was too broken to find any form of redemption, certainly not between the legs of a lonely mortal.

It was these thoughts that haunted her as she sunk into her bath hours later. The hot water eased aching muscles, but it did little to help her broken heart. The words seemed preposterous to her. Broken heart? Why had she even given Loki the opportunity to break it?

oOoOoOo

It was a tiny little thing. A canister of glass and metal. All one needed to do was press it against the wrist and it extracted blood: minimal pain, minimal effort. In a way, Alex felt that the device was probably a little too civilised for the man who had attempted to take over her planet.

She watched as Tony extracted the canister from the foam backing, holding it out to Bruce Banner, who shot him a dark look.

“What am I supposed to do with _that_?”

“Take his blood, _Doctor_ Banner.”

Bruce cocked an eyebrow. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You do realise I’m not a medical doctor, don’t you? I have a PhD in _nuclear physics._ ”

“You were helping out kiddies in India, weren’t you?” Tony smirked evilly. “Besides, Rock of Ages is terrified of you. It’ll be fucking hilarious.”

The canister was snatched from Tony’s hand, Bruce making his way toward the chained prisoner. A few of the local Asgardians had gathered to watch the procedure, something which only added to the physicist’s nerves. 

“Has anyone ever told you how immature you are, Stark?”

Tony shrugged. “Maturity is for the boring.”

Bruce’s dark eyes met Loki’s light, and the pale god started to struggle against his bindings. More than anything, Alex hated the fact that she _cared_.

“Twitchy bugger, aren’t you?” Bruce murmured, placing the canister against one of Loki’s wrists. It was in this moment that the imprisoned god looked straight at Alex, the glint in his eyes one which truly disturbed her.

_Help me!_


	25. Undisclosed Desires

**Chapter Twenty-Five  
Undisclosed Desires**

Loki would never forget the sensation of bone shattering, skin and sinew tearing. He had felt every drop of blood as it pooled beneath his skin, every shard of bone as it tore through tight muscle. After the Hulk’s attack, he had healed quickly. Even as he lay there, surrounded by the decimated remains of Stark’s flooring, he could feel everything stitching back together. Such an attack would have killed a mere mortal, but Loki had to endure every agonising second.

And so it was that he found himself terrified when once more faced with the beast that did it. Dr. Bruce Banner may have worn the physique of a human, but beneath that veneer lurked the raging green hunk of muscle. The only creature Midgard could conjure that could actually immobilise _him_. 

Loki was already aware that the Avengers desired his blood. He had always suspected Alexandra would be the one to take it, perhaps even Thor. But _Banner_? 

The closer the beast got, the more Loki struggled. It was undignified, but there was something about Banner’s presence that instilled within him the undeniable urge to get away.  
“Twitchy bugger, aren’t you?” 

The words caused tendrils of hatred to clench Loki’s stomach. He shot the scientist the darkest look he could muster, an action that roused only a smirk of derision. The tiny blood collection device, once resting against Loki’s wrist, now came to his neck.

“Stark told me to go for the wrist.” Banner’s voice was so low, it was clear his words were meant for Loki’s ears only. “But I’ve always been more of a neck man, myself. You see, I have no idea how deep this thing goes. It might damage a carotid artery. We can always hope.”

Had Loki been in full control of his body at this moment, he may have lashed out at Banner, regardless of the ramifications. He struggled harder, yet the cool metal remained against his flesh. He shot a pleading look at Alexandra, one last desperate moment, but she merely turned away. 

The dark haired human known as Tony Stark snorted. “Come on, Maleficent. It’s just a tiny prick. Nothing you’re unfamiliar with.”

Loki felt his cheeks burn with humiliation, the _tiny prick_ at his neck doing nothing to ease the sensation. When Banner moved, Loki caught sight of the liquid within the vial. It was scarlet. So _normal. So Aesir_. For so many years he had believed it to be the same blood that ran through the veins of Thor. Frigga. Odin. Now he knew it to be a deception. When the magic ran out, would it turn blue or black? Would his true heritage be evident, spread out on a petri dish for the Midgardians to dissect?

Banner’s gaze flicked across Loki’s neck. “Damn, not even a scar.”

Loki watched with increased venom as the vial was placed back in its casing. 

Stark turned to smirk at Alexandra. “Your boyfriend Malory’s going to love this.”

“Lucas?” Loki heard Alexandra state. “What does he want with Loki’s blood?”

“You know: this, that and the other.” Stark placed the foam wrapped blood into a steel suitcase, snapping it shut. “Been nagging me about it actually. I had to make this thing specifically.” He lifted the suitcase. “Best if we talk about it away from the heir of Slytherin, here.”

Loki felt storm grey eyes fall upon him once more. 

“Yes, I suppose you are right.”

oOoOoOo

Words had not littered the air since Alex and the Avengers had left the courtyard. It was not until they all entered Thor’s personal chambers that tongues once more started to wag.

“Sweet Jesus, this place is bigger than my _apartment_.” Clint shrugged his bow onto his back, sending an envy-filled look around the cavernous room. Even Alex had to admit it was impressive: not just in size but also decor. Various articles of war were displayed upon the walls, along with objects seized in battle. Thor’s bed was laden with furs, no doubt the beasts he had slain on various hunting trips. A large flagon of wine sat in the centre of a well-worn table.

Alex took a goblet of this wine, sipping the now familiar liquid idly. “So, care to tell me why you needed Loki’s blood?”

“ _We_ ,” Stark corrected. “You work for the Geraldine project, after all. Your lover-boy Lucas wanted us to collect blood so we could analyse it. You see, the prison is built, we just need to find a way to counteract Rock of Ages _unusual_ skills.”

“His magic, you mean?”

Stark squinted. “I hate that word.”

Alex frowned. “I thought the All-Father had neutralised Loki’s _unusual skills_?”

Thor spoke now, refilling his cup. “My father’s influence over Loki cannot stretch to Midgard. Once there, Loki will regain his power, and with it his ability to wreak havoc.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow. “He does so already without his powers. Why exactly are we taking him back to Earth if he’s going to be magically charged?”

Thor frowned. “I fear the longer Loki remains in Asgard, the less likely he is to come to the realisation that what he did was wrong.”

“Interesting though all of this is,” yawned Stark, “he’ll be coming to Earth anyway. Malory would sauté Fury’s nuts if his little cage was made redundant.”

Alex fought back the somewhat disturbing mental image that accompanied this statement, while Stark diligently continued.

“Speaking of your man, he’s coming here tomorrow.”

“WHAT?” The goblet of wine nearly fell from Alex’s fingers, her eyes wide. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me that before?”

Stark frowned. “I was trying to forget about it, personally. Has anyone ever told you that your boyfriend is a total shit?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” snapped Alex, “and I knew that already. Why is he even coming here?”

“Apparently he wants to ask Loki some questions.”

“Yeah, cause Loki is likely to answer them.” The meagre alcohol content of the wine seemed a cruelty to Alex at this moment. Her dilemma with Loki was bad enough, but Lucas as well? Asgard, once her sanctuary, was now morphing into her own personal prison. “Besides I thought asking Loki questions was the reason Geraldine was being built?”

“It is. Malory is just a wanker.”

Clint snorted. “Truer words have never been spoken.”

Alex wondered what Lucas had done to the Avengers to get them so far off-side, apart from being his usual odorous self. 

Food was brought into the room, but Alex barely touched it. Nor did she engage in the now light hearted conversation exchanged among the close knit group of friends. She was the outsider, yet it was not her lack of superpowers that kept her isolated, but rather her own dashing of nerves. 

Once the platter was cleared and the flagon empty, she found courage enough to excuse herself. Night had fallen, stars glimmering within the blanket of sultry black. Her legs took her not to her chambers, but rather to Loki’s courtyard, now an empty haven. The brash flowerbeds no longer rioted in colour, but sprinklings of aromatic jasmine bloomed beneath the moon’s cold rays. She could not resist but to pick one tiny bud, the scent a pleasing reminder of home.

“Who is Malory?”

His bare feet had made little noise upon the thick grass, yet Alex had been aware of his presence before the first word had been uttered.

“I don’t see how it is your business, Loki.”

“We have been engaged in a tryst for almost a full cycle, and you did not deem it necessary to inform me of this?”

Alex let the bloom fall to the grass, turning now to the darkened figure. “No, because Lucas Malory is a thing of my past. As are you.” She wondered if she should call for the Avengers, or even the guards. 

“Is there anything I can do to make you take me back?”

She shook her head. “I doubt it.”

“What if I were to tell you I love you?”

Alex could barely see his face in the minimal light, merely a shard of silver that cut across his cheekbones, making the green of his eyes glimmer black.

“I would say you are incapable of love.”

“If one is capable of hate, they must also be capable of love.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “And why would you love a mortal? Why would you possibly love _me_?”

“I don’t know.”

There was no point in gracing such an answer with a response, and as such, Alex headed toward the gold-wrought gates. 

Loki took her shoulder, halting her movement. “Why do you leave?”

“I’m leaving before you turn bat-shit crazy again and decide to rape me.”

“I can assure you that will not happen.” Loki’s grasp softened. “Alexandra, I-”

“Stop.” Alex shrugged the hand from her shoulder, continuing on her path.

“I _do_ love you.”

“Fuck you, Loki.”

Alex truly believed the subject closed. The words were as poison from his lips, another lie to add to his web. How could he _love_ her? His exchange with Natasha Romanoff in the cage had revealed his contempt for the feeling. Love was not in Loki’s repertoire. 

“You are a damned insatiable stubborn woman!” His yell echoed throughout the courtyard. “I speak the words your pathetic Midgardian ears want to hear, the words I _truly_ feel, and you discard them. What have I done that is so unforgivable? You seemed to enjoy my previous advances. Do you wish for me to beg? To kneel? Because, Alexandra Beckett, I _will_. Or I would if I thought it would make a damned bit of difference.”

“Everything you said then was slightly tainted by the ‘pathetic Midgard’ bit.”

Loki uttered a strangled growl. “What can I do to appease you?”

Alex shot him one final look. “Nothing.”


	26. There is a Devil Haunts Thee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Vice Update! Just a few things you may want to know about this chapter and the story to come. I know many of my early readers have not been reading the re-write, but you may want to read this bit if you’re still interested in the sequel, as there will be notable changes.
> 
> 1\. For those of you who have read Vice before, you will notice some pretty notable changes in this chapter. For one, I have completely removed Malory and Alex’s “origin story”. This was a hard decision to make, but trust me, I have my reasons. 
> 
> 2\. Unlike the original Vice, this re-write is only going to be thirty-five chapters and an epilogue. There will be no mention of Port Arthur at all. Nothing.
> 
> 3\. I will be writing a small interim story which will introduce themes for the sequel Wayward Sons. This interim story will be called Mind the Gap, and for those of you who were in London with me in July, you will know of it as Alex and Loki go to London. Either way, it will be angst ridden, smutty and full of Londoney goodness. Setting this particular part of the story in London, rather than Port Arthur, also allows me to run slightly along the same lines as Thor 2.
> 
> 4\. I will not be posting any of Wayward Sons until after mid November, as it will be addressing much of the content present within Thor: The Dark World. While it cannot be entirely canon (because I’ve created my own timeline here), I want there to be correlations. I also realise that while I’m lucky enough to be seeing Thor 2 next Wednesday, folks in the US and elsewhere will not get it until much later. This will give me ample time to replan Wayward Sons and start writing it up... by hand. I can’t wait!!! 
> 
> 5\. It is my goal to have all of the Vice re-write finished by the time I see Thor 2... so expect lots of updates, people!

**Chapter Twenty-Six  
There is a Devil Haunts Thee**

_Nothing_.

It was such a simple word: yet beneath the tone and inflection, the two syllables held a multitude of meaning. As Loki observed Alexandra’s retreating back, this swamp of meaning haunted him. _Nothing_. Could she mean it? Her tone held the word in shackles of finality, yet her eyes had flashed with something else – was it doubt? If there was nothing Loki could do to appease her, did he have anything left to strive for? Had his entire existence become latched to the emotional attachment of this tiny little mortal: this flash in time? Perhaps it was _she_ who was _nothing_? How could he love a creature that would crumble and rot before his eyes, while he remained forever youthful? How could he love someone so... _fleeting_? Or maybe it was the brevity of her existence that appealed. Like the bud of jasmine she had clutched between her fingers, her own beauty was just as temporary, and made more intense because of it?

Absorbed by his musing, Loki did not notice the tall, shrouded figure enter the courtyard. This was particularly surprising considering that Thor had never been a creature of stealth. 

“You ought to leave her be, brother.”

Loki glanced up, green eyes meeting pale blue. “Would you leave her alone, if she were your precious Jane?” Perhaps there was a little too much venom in his words. Loki did not allow himself to care.

“I have never-” Thor’s sentence shattered, the muttered sounds only to be replaced by Loki’s cold, humourless laugh.

“What, brother? Ravaged her? Taken her against her will? No, the mighty Thor would never do anything like that! That creature he calls a brother, on the other hand...”

“You were not always like this, brother. What has happened to you?”

Loki rolled his eyes. How many times would he and his brother replay the same conversation? How long would he be subjected to the disappointment of those he once called family? “Life, brother.”

Thor frowned, or perhaps the furrowed brow equalled confusion. Loki, even after ten centuries, could not quite decipher Thor’s limited range of facial expressions. “You were starting to improve... Agent Beckett-”

“It would be unwise for you to continue that sentence, Thor. As for Alexandra, well, as the Midgardians would put it, I _fucked that up_.” Loki turned on his heel, heading toward the less-than-comforting warmth of the palace. There was little point in wasting his ‘free time’ in the location he endured his punishment, after all. “She is free to go back to her precious Malory.”

Thor followed, his footfalls regaining their usual heaviness. “Lucas Malory? As far as I am aware she finds him most displeasing. As do most who encounter him.”

Loki found his interest peaked. “You know him?”

“He is the man overseeing the development of your prison, Loki.” The words spilled from Thor’s mouth with such ease, that Loki suspected his brother did not particularly care that the information he diverged was of a classified nature.

“My loathing increases the more I hear of him.”

Was that a smile that curled Thor’s lips? “I would keep that to yourself, brother. Malory will be arriving here tomorrow. He has _questions_ for you.”

“And he honestly expects me to answer them?”

“Malory expects many things.”

oOoOoOo

By the time Alex entered the observatory the following morning, a handful of Avengers had already assembled within. It was expected that the Avengers be part of the party, yet all of them looked as unwilling to be there as Alex felt.

“Alex! About fucking time!” 

Tony’s voice was, as usual, obnoxiously loud. His long tanned fingers clutched a giant tankard of what she could only assume was Asgardian ale. Unless he had somehow smuggled in a cache of coffee she did not know about. 

Tony did not allow her time to reply, instead gesturing to Heimdall. “I’ve been trying to convince the BFG here to divert the bi-frost. You know, to Jotunheim or something. Not really sure he’s buying it.”

Heimdall merely frowned, causing Stark to cock an eyebrow.

“Laugh a minute, this guy. Bet he’s the life of the party.”

“My duties do not allow me to engage in frivolities.”

Heimdall’s baritone caught the Midgardians off-guard. The guardian was rarely vocal. Tony’s response was soon swallowed up by a low rumbling deep within the observatory. Blue shards of light spilled from the centre, lighting the chamber in a blinding haze. The light soon disappeared, replaced now with a singular figure clutching a roller case. 

“Alexandra. It has been too long.” Malory’s voice was dripping with slime. “How is my favourite little recruit?”

Behind Malory’s back, Tony made a gagging gesture. Alex smirked. 

“I am well, thank you sir. How about you?”

Malory filled the chamber with his low, false laugh. “I was better before I got on the bi-frost thing. You would have thought these Asgardians would have developed a more sophisticated way to travel.”

The dark haired bureaucrat headed toward the exit, not acknowledging Thor, the Avengers or Heimdall. Had it been anyone else, Alex may have gently reminded him of polite custom. As it was Malory, she took secret pleasure in the fact that he was ruffling feathers already. Perhaps he would be so appalling that Odin would banish him within hours.   
One could only hope.

The group shuffled across the Rainbow Bridge in complete silence. Malory seemed to take little interest in what he was seeing. The Rainbow Bridge seemed only an inconvenience, the city a gaudy smattering of gold. Of course, Malory’s idea of sophistication was monoliths of steel, concrete and glass. 

“Well, isn’t this quaint?” Malory smirked as they entered Loki’s courtyard, dark eyes grazing the prisoner. Leaving the group, he strode across the grass, lips curling a little as the wet blades left tiny droplets upon his glistening shoes. Alex could not help but feel somewhat perturbed by the hatred in Loki’s green eyes as they fell upon the approaching man. His stance straightened, as though even tied and silenced he wished Malory to know he was the _better man_. 

Which he was, a disturbing thought at best. If a psychopath bent on world domination had more redeemable features than her boss, which said a great deal about Malory. 

“So this is him then?” Malory scoffed; grabbing Loki’s hair and wrenching it, so that the prisoner could do nothing more than meet his gaze. Alex watched Thor grow tense, yet he remained still. Defending his brother now, during his public punishment, would not bode well for him. Malory let the hair go. “Looks like a fucking girl. Hard to believe this pretty boy almost enslaved the world.”

Loki’s chains rattled as he clenched his fists, knuckles white. 

Malory ignored him. “What’s with the stitches?”

“My brother has a silver tongue,” Thor finally interjected.

Malory laughed. “Since when has a tongue ever hurt anyone? Seems a bit medieval if you ask me. What’s the point in having a prisoner, if you can’t even interrogate him, eh, Alex?”

Alex managed to smear a fake smile onto her lips, which disappeared as soon as Malory’s back was turned. As the Avengers led her boss into the citadel, Alex shot Loki a look which she hoped was sympathetic. Loki merely scowled, the movement of his lips causing fresh streams of blood to trickle down his pale chin.

oOoOoOo

“Do you honestly expect me to answer your questions, mortal?”

Loki sneered at his interrogator. The hated Malory sat before him, legs spread wide, as though trying to emulate Loki’s usual mode of sitting. He recognised the chamber, a small windowless hovel branching off from the kitchens. During times of great harvest, it often held excess stores. Now there was nothing but two chairs, a few of those devices the Midgardian’s called ‘cameras’ and yards of heavy chain. Loki almost yearned for Malory to come closer, so he could wrap one of his chains around the mortal’s long tanned neck...

Malory cocked a dark eyebrow. “That is up to you.”

“That does not even make sense. If the mortals wanted me to talk, perhaps they should have sent an interrogator with something between his ears.”

“I am here because I want to be here, not because I was sent. I work for myself.”

“Once again, you divulge unnecessary information.” Loki cocked his head, smirking. “Does working for yourself make you feel like more of a man? Perhaps having those with actual skill under your command makes you feel like there’s something between your legs, mortal, but I am not im-”

Loki struggled with his final word, his cheek momentarily struck numb by Malory’s palm. The man was quick, he would give him that much.

“You say I am as though a maiden, yet you hit like a fresh faced virgin,” he finally drawled, stretching his jaw. “Even Alexandra lays a better blow than you.”

Malory chuckled. “Yes, she’s a fiery little thing isn’t she?” 

Loki could almost hear the cogs ticking away in the tanned man’s head. 

“What a minute, Alex _hit_ you?”

_She’s done more than that_. Loki fought back the grin threatening to spill across his lips. “I have given her reason to on occasion.”

“Have you given _her_ any information?”

“No,” Loki replied, his tone bored. “Nor have I told my brother, my mother, my father or your precious Avengers. If I won’t even tell those I have an inkling of respect for, what makes you think I will tell you anything?”

“I have other ways to coerce information out of you.”

This time Loki did grin. “You hit like a woman and I have known horses more proficient in the art of interrogation. Apart from boring me with your inane prattle, what other ways do you have?”

“You will soon find out.”

“I suppose that was an attempt at being mysterious? I am terribly threatened.” Loki’s voice lowered now, filling with pure venom. “You did not come here to get answers; you came here because you _like_ being involved. You want to be the big man. I’ll tell you what, mortal. Undo these chains and I’ll show you what a _real_ man is.”

oOoOoOo

The interrogation had been useless, as Alex suspected it would. Malory may have excelled at hiring those proficient at interrogation, but his own abilities were average at best. She knew full well his true purpose for being there was to keep an eye on her. He loathed the fact Fury had kept her there for the year. Idly, she wondered how long Malory had campaigned to gain access to the bi-frost.

It seemed like hours before she left Stark’s chambers, her eyes weary from focusing on the plethora of tiny screens littering the room. The mood of the observers was a peculiar one. While most of them were not particularly fond of Loki, they took perverse pleasure as the God of Mischief massacred Malory with his silver tongue. 

The lesser of two evils, perhaps?

Her chambers still seemed empty without Loki’s assorted bric-a-brac. She almost missed the gleam of his ceremonial armour in the candlelight; the smell of leather and sex; his long, hard body pressed against hers as she slept.

No.

Slipping out of her uniform, Alex threw on a pair of ancient boy leg shorts and an oversized t-shirt. While she preferred sleeping in the Asgardian silk, the idea of wearing such a sheer item with Malory on the loose made her queasy. She had just squeezed a sizeable blob of toothpaste onto her toothbrush when someone entered her quarters. 

She did not need to be a genius to figure out who it was. Even Loki had knocked. Malory swept into the bathroom, leaning against the golden door frame. He had removed his jacket and tie, a glimpse of tanned chest evident through the shard of unbuttoned shirt.

“You’ve lost weight.”

Alex raised both eyebrows; shoving the toothbrush into her mouth and starting to brush. Malory continued.

“I like it. You always were a little plump. Even during training.” Moving from his position at the doorway, Malory slipped behind her, slowly lifting the bottom of her shirt, fingertips running across the exposed flesh. Alex wriggled away, spitting the toothpaste in the sink.

“Please don’t Lucas.”

The fingers returned, this time clutching her hips tightly. His groin was pressed against her rump, arousal evident. Instinctually, Alex thrust her elbow back, a basic trick taught to her by Sif. Malory fell away.

“You stupid little whore! You could at least be grateful.”

“Grateful?”

“If it weren’t for me, you would never have come to your precious Asgard,” Malory continued to clutch his hip. Obviously her blow was harder than she anticipated. “You _owe_ me.”

“I don’t.”

“I told you before I can break you, Alexandra. And I will, if you continue _this_.” He waved his hands in her general direction. “I don’t know what this shit is all about, but it will stop.”

Alex bit her lip. “You have no control over me.”

“No control? You stupid cunt.” Malory’s fake laugh was cold now. “My control brought you here, and it will take you away. You’re coming back to Australia with me. _In two days_.”

“Two days?”

“Fury has cleared it.” Malory spat the name, before straightening his shirt. “I’ll let you get away with this now, Alexandra, but once we are at Geraldine I expect you to show your gratitude.” His face was now mere millimetres from hers. “Or I will see to it that you never get a job in the public service, _anywhere_ , again.”

Malory departed, leaving Alex standing stock still in her bathroom, the toothbrush still poking from her fingers. Minty foam oozed down the stick of plastic onto her wrist, but she barely noticed. All she could think about were Malory’s words.

_Two days_.

Did the Avengers know about this? Thor? Odin? 

_Two days_.

She thought she still had months. Months of training with Sif, parties with the Warriors Three. Months to find some kind of peace with Loki.

But two days? 

Dropping the brush into the sink, she squirted achingly hot water onto her now sticky hands. The pain barely registered, nor did the fact she had a smear of toothpaste on her cheek. All that mattered was getting out of her quarters... as quickly as possible....

oOoOoOo

Her feet led her in a direction that she had never yet traversed, yet somehow knew the way. The hall widened, flame buckets increasing in size and splendour. Ornate tapestries hung from the walls, depicting scenes of royal prowess. Impressive ceremonial carvings topped each of the doors. Feathers for Thor. Horns for...

Alex hesitated before the huge ornate double doors. The cedar was worn with years of use, yet had more beauty in every grain then any metal she had ever seen. She wondered what his chambers were like. Warm, inviting, bursting with the furs of the beasts he had slain? Alex doubted it. She suspected there would be books. Many books. 

Her knuckles barely reached the wood before the doors creaked open. Loki was naked, but for a soft green towel draped low on his waist. 

“Alexandra, what are you doing here?” His tone was not displeased, merely surprised. 

“May I come in?”

Loki stepped aside, opening the door wider to allow her access. She had not been incorrect in regards to the books. There was barely an inch of wall space that did not have a bookshelf perched against it, or a pile of books precariously trailing up its surface like haphazard creepers of knowledge. The bed was huge, twice the size of her own, adorned simply with a red coverlet and golden curtains. A fire crackled half-heartedly in the hearth.

“Why are you here?”

“He’s taking me back, Loki.” She did not know what possessed her to say it, but the words seemed to fall from her lips. “In two days. He-”

Loki closed the doors, stepping toward her. “Did he touch you?”

Alex lifted the bottom of her shirt, showing off the slight bruising Malory’s fingers had left on her hips. Loki snarled.

“Intimately?”

Alex shook her head. “I elbowed him.”

Loki did not laugh, rather, taking her hand in his. “He _will not_ touch you again.”

“I don’t really know how you’re going to achieve that, Loki.” She lifted her hand, fingers now entwined with his. “I said the same thing about you, and look at us now.”

“Alex-”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she murmured. “We will have to, in time, but not now.” Tentatively, she inched closer, drawing herself up on tiptoes. Her lips brushed against his, soft, innocent, as naive as a first kiss. Loki’s fingers tightened around hers, his lips pressing harder. She did not fight as his tongue brushed against closed teeth. They fell upon the green-clad bed with a soft plod, fingers exploring, tongues entwined. 

“You are mine Alexandra,” he breathed against her lips. 

“No, you are _mine_.”

“Yours.”


	27. The Deep Blue Sea

**Chapter Twenty-Seven  
The Deep Blue Sea**

It was in the tiny hours of the morning that Loki clamped his hand down over Lucas Malory’s mouth. It was not a particularly fatal embrace: the festering creature was still able to breathe through his nose. Yet the physical act of causing Malory discomfort provided Loki with a perverse sense of pleasure. As did the knowledge that Alexandra was curled within the voluminous depths of _his_ bed.

Their embrace had not progressed into the carnal stages, though Loki had desperately wanted it to. At the mere brush of her lips, his cock had stirred. As she drew him onto the bed, soft fingers tangling in his hair, he was so hard the towel could no longer contain him. So many weeks had passed...

The brush of his erection against the creamy flesh of her thigh, while tantalising for _him_ , had caused his little mortal to withdrawal.

“Not yet.”

Now she was resting, wrapped tight in that hideous oversized garment that obscured the bruises. It was agony to leave her there, slipping within the cavernous depths of his over-lavish bathroom. His hand had made short work of her physical effect upon him. But his lips remained swollen; her taste was remanant on his tongue. 

He _needed_ her.

And her little mewling groans as they kissed were indicative of the fact that she wanted him in return. Despite all that he had done to her, she still desired _him_ , still considered _him_ to be more amiable company than Lucas Malory.

No, it was Malory’s fault that Loki had been denied his mortal.

It was Malory’s fault that his time with Alexandra was cut so drastically short.

The other man’s breath was short and sharp, desperate against Loki’s palm. Dark brown eyes snapped open, staring wildly into the dark. Loki knew full well what Malory saw: a pale spectre with wild black hair, a beastly creature of the night. 

“You listen to me, Malory,” Loki purred, his silver tongue working its malice. “You will tell no one that I have been here. If you do, I will introduce you to levels of pain your limited imagination could barely comprehend. Do you understand?”

The man nodded frantically into Loki’s cruel embrace.

“Excellent.” Loki grinned, the worst visage of euphoria he could possible muster. “Now...” the grin disappeared, this time replaced by a scowl. “If you touch Alexandra ever again, I will kill you, but not before I repay you for every bruise or cut you inflict upon her. _Stay away from her_.”

Slowly, he moved his hand away, wiping it against the sheets. He did not wait for Malory to speak, nor did he particularly care for whatever the noxious _thing_ had to say. To him, Malory was the worst kind of mortal: a pathetic wretch who believed himself something great. It was men like Malory that brought upon the human population that which Loki had tried to free them from. If only they had seen the logic of his ways...

More than anything, Loki loathed the fact that Malory had been with Alexandra. Of course, it would be foolish to think that she had arrived on Asgard a fresh-faced virgin. He would have soon discovered that as he ravaged her on the desk. The girl was too willing, to hungry to be an innocent. She did not shy away from his cock. But he still resented that Malory had enjoyed her first.

The journey back to his chambers was wrought with inactivity. The guards ignored him, as was their duty. The only movement came from the dancing flames within the grates.   
His Alexandra was but a slight lump in the centre of his huge bed, curled beneath the coverlet, the side of her face delicately bathed in the shard of moonlight peeping through the curtains. The Asgardian sun would rise in a few hours, the warmer light snatching away the perceived vulnerability of her features. It would shine off her tallow locks, the hue of wrought gold. And he would miss it, as he always had, simply because of the nature of his punishment. 

Dipping into the bathroom to wash his hands, he heard a delicate moan emulating from the centre of his bed. The hand towel stilled between his still damp fingers, his ears tuned to the sound.

“Loki.”

Was she awake? Letting the towel slip to the floor, Loki snuck toward the bed. The moonlight revealed her eyes to be closed, mouth slightly open. Her body was no longer curled, but rather sprawled across the centre of the mattress.

“Loki, please.”

She was _dreaming_ about him! Loki almost smirked. Had she been doing so for long? For how many nights had her subconscious taunted her with images of _him_?

The side of the bed in which he slipped was cold, but Loki did not necessarily mind the temperature. Perhaps this was something to do with his parentage? As he edged toward her, she did not stir, though her light moans continued: tantalising, delicious, exactly what he needed...

oOoOoOo

As much as she had wished Loki from her life, she could not banish him from her subconscious. There he lingered. Cruel. Delightful. Ravenous for her body. And she always allowed him access... never plagued by the fear that he would once again take her without consent. Perhaps her subconscious lacked the moral compass of its real life counterpart. Or perhaps it was merely a reflection of her forgiveness.

As sleep took over that evening, she had been haunted by his scent. It was everywhere in this room: the heady mixture of leather, books, sex and that thing that remained unidentifiable, yet so incredibly... Loki. Dream Loki was all touch, his lips soft and wet against her flesh, tongue dipping at the nape of her neck, trailing down toward the peaks of her breasts. His cock pressed against her open thighs, a tiny drop of pre-cum smearing her flesh. She wanted him. Desperately. Yearned for his lips, his fingers, his _cock_. She hated him for what he did to her, but she also loved him for what else he was capable of achieving. Loki was her weakness, and in her dreams, he was entirely _hers_. 

His silver tongue finally rested between her legs, long fingers drawing her thighs further apart. 

“Loki!” 

The heat of his tongue against her swollen flesh was almost unbearable, his desperation to taste every inch of her evident in every swish, flick and suck. His moans vibrated against her, only driving her closer to the edge. Two long fingers dipped within her depths, rubbing against her walls, teasing her spot...

The fingers felt so real, lacking the blurred perception of the rest of the dream. Perhaps her imagination was more vivid. Yet as Alex’s mind switched from unconscious to conscious, she was ever aware of hot lips against the back of her neck, the hand dipped within her pants. 

“Loki?”

“Are you awake, little one?”

Her response was to slip her hand over her pants, covering his cloth covered fingers, pressing them deeper into her sex. “You shouldn’t be doing this.”

“I want to make you come, Alexandra.”

Alex felt him shift, the hard shaft of his cock pressing against her arse. What did he expect of her in return?

“I want nothing,” he murmured against her neck, once again taunting her with his uncanny ability to know what she was thinking, “but to have you gasp my name.”

“Loki.”

“Yes, just like that, but _louder_.” The ministrations of his fingers increased, drawing from her depths to circle her clit. “Say that you are mine, my little mortal. Say it.”

Alex pressed against his body, back arching. His lips brushed against her jaw, other hand curling round to gently fondle a breast through the soft cotton of her ancient shirt. “I am yours, Loki.”

“Glorious,” Loki purred into her ear. “Now will you let me fuck you?”

Alex merely gasped as her climax hit, every nerve in her neglected body singing, yearning for him and him alone. A smile crossed her lips.

“Tomorrow night.”


	28. Farewell

**Chapter Twenty-Eight  
Farewell**

Loki’s bed was a glorious sea of fluffy pillows, soft mattress and silk sheets. Sprawled within its centre, Alex found herself less than inclined toward making the journey to the edge. Perhaps she could ignore the world around her? Wait in Loki’s bed until he returned for her that evening? The idea held much appeal, yet Alex knew it to be impossible. It was her last full day in Asgard: the final chance to spar with Sif, dine with Volstagg and drink with Fandral. Maybe, after all these months, she would finally prise a word from Hogun’s lips. There were so many people to say goodbye too, so much to do – so much to pack. The more she thought about it, the more she loathed Lucas for forcing her to leave.

_Once we are at Geraldine I expect you to show your gratitude..._

The words lingered, biting at her subconscious. Loki had insisted that Lucas would never touch her again, but Alex knew this was unlikely. Loki believed himself powerful, but within the confines of Geraldine he would be akin to a monkey in a cage. Something for Lucas to gawk at – taunt – until the man Alex loved no longer existed. No, deep in the bowels of the Australian outback, Loki had no power to stop Lucas at all.

Allowing herself one final stretch, Alex slid from the bed, toes curling in the luxurious rug covering the polished timber floors. The temperature within the chambers was surprisingly cool, causing Alex to snatch Loki’s jacket from the back of a nearby chair. The heavy garment swamped her, the arms falling past her fingers, the bottom hissing along the floor. It smelt of leather and Loki, a heavenly combination that incited her to wrap it tighter around her. She wondered if he would let her keep it, though smuggling home the God of Mischief’s coat might seem slightly suspicious. 

Perhaps she could keep it in an airtight container, hidden away in the cupboard beneath the stairs in her Canberra apartment? When she was an old woman, she could bring it out, breathing deeply of the remnants of his scent. Would Loki still be in Geraldine by then? Perhaps he would be a freed man, one that had left her the moment her mortal lifespan became evident in her face. Old age. Yet another reason she and Loki were destined to be apart.

Lips pressed in a frown, Alex threw open the curtains, bathing the room in light she was sure it had not seen in months. A haze of dust danced upon the air, reflecting the sunlight in its hectic tango. Rather than windows there were heavy glass doors, flanked by ornate frames of silver and gold. They opened smoothly, welcoming the fresh air. Alex breathed deeply, the coat a warm barrier against the uncomfortable fingers of Asgard’s winter winds. 

Like all balconies in the palace, Loki’s looked out upon a stunning view: of ocean, forest and mountain, flanked by the bustling mass of the city. Resting against the railing, Alex wondered how many times Loki had bathed in this view. Had he brought women out onto the balcony, whispered sweet nothings into their ears in a game of seduction? Had he told them to hold onto the railings as he took them from behind, long fingers gripping their hips through sheer Asgardian silk? 

Would he do the same to her this evening? Pressing his lips against the back of her neck, cock angled deep within her? In the blatant light of day, Alex felt her cheeks burn, biting the inside of her mouth with nervous teeth. This was not something she ought to be thinking about. There was too much to do... so little time.

It was only as she ventured back into Loki’s chambers that Alex noticed the small note on the large cedar doors. She had never seen Loki’s handwriting before, and found herself enchanted by the slanted characters, etched perfectly in emerald ink.

 _My little mortal,_  
I would advise you against using the main door. I have left a trail within the secret passageway for you to follow. It will take you back to your chambers. Simply tilt the copy of Magical Drafts and Potions _by Arsenius Jigger to reveal the entrance.  
Until tonight._

Alex raised an eyebrow, eyes pouring over the floor to ceiling bookshelves. “Easier said than done Loki,” she murmured, running her fingertips along the different bindings. The more she saw, the more she wished she had visited Loki’s chambers earlier. While many of the volumes were available in the library, others were of such a rare nature that Alex marvelled that even Loki had a copy. 

Much to her surprise, _Magical Drafts and Potions_ was not particularly difficult to find. It was on a central shelf, bursting with titles like _Medieval Witchcraft in England_. Once again, she found herself fascinated. Since when had Loki taken an interest in Midgardian ‘magicks’?

Alex pulled the book, gasping as the shelf slid out to reveal one of the many passages that lined the halls of the citadel. Small white objects littered the ground, evidently Loki’s trail of breadcrumbs. Alex bent over to retrieve one, marvelling in the soft texture, the heady aroma of... lily petals. 

Well that was almost _romantic_. 

The trail seemed to take no logical course, a serpentine labyrinth of narrow and wide corridors. There were spiral staircases and ramps that seemed to go for miles. After what seemed millennia, the trail of petals stopped. 

Alex pulled the golden leaver imbedded in the wall, revealing her chambers within. The site merely caused her to sadden further. This was her _home_. She had never really contemplated what it would be like to leave, though she knew she inevitably would. It had just seemed like so many months away...

oOoOoOo

Time seemed to pass unnaturally fast that day, each hour seeming like minutes, minutes like mere seconds. The only thing that remained constant was the general loathing of Malory that emulated from all corners. Within the short space of time that he had been there, Lucas had inadvertently insulted most of the high standing Asgardians that he came into contact with.

“Foul... Repugnant...!” Sif panted between heavy blows of her practise sword. Alex deftly parried the blows, a little taken out by her sparring partner’s aggressive stance. “I did not work this hard to be treated like a piece of meat by a disgusting little mortal.” Sif’s fiery statement was punctuated by the loud clack of the swords. “No offence, Lady Alex.”

“None taken.” Alex’s own voice was tainted by exhaustion. “Lucas is the worst example of my kind.”

Sif knocked away Alex’s sword, planting the point of her own at Alex’s neck. Even after all this time, it seemed as though she would not better Sif. Not that it particularly concerned her. As long as she could better _Lucas Malory._

“It saddens me that you have to leave. Are you sure you cannot change it?”

Alex shook her head. Prior to their sparring, she had been on Skype with Fury. The picture was blurry and pixelated (despite Tony’s best efforts), but even through the haze she could perceive Fury’s irritation at Lucas’ interference. The Director basically informed her that she was coming back to Midgard for the purpose of getting Lucas off his case. While Alex could understand Fury’s reasoning, it did not stop her feeling more than a little resentful. 

“Shall we go another round, Lady Alex?”

Sif held out the handle of Alex’s discarded sword. It was the practice weapon she always used, an old friend. She knew it was foolish to grow sentimental over a hunk of wood, but like Loki’s jacket, she felt an undeniable urge to souvenir it. 

“You will of course drink and feast with us tonight?”

Alex smiled, aiming an ill-placed jab at the warrior’s side. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“I merely hope that bilgesnipe spawn does not attend. If I catch him looking at my chest one more time...” Sif clenched her spare hand. 

“Tony looks at your chest all the time.”

“The man of iron is different. I do not particularly care for his company, but he is a great hero. Malory reminds me more of Loki.”

“Loki?” Alex paled. The last thing she needed swamping her mind was a comparison of Loki to Malory. Not her Loki...

“Indeed. But even Loki was never so... lecherous.”

They sparred in silence until Sif inevitably won, but parted ways once they reached the gates. Sif was not a particularly sentimental maiden, yet she scooped Alex into a hug none-the-less. “I will miss our sparring, Lady Alex. You are a worthy friend.”

Alex felt tears spring in her eyes. “As are you, Sif.”

oOoOoOo

The feast commenced before the falling of the sun. Tables were lined with vegetables served in every conceivable fashion, sweet wine and mead flowed freely from large barrels. One table strained beneath a huge array of desserts, most notably a sticky chocolate cake, the ingredients evidently brought from Midgard. Now the tears were running as freely as the mead. Alex, whose life had always been a lonely venture, sometimes punctuated with a joyous friendship, had finally found her place. She was not blind to the fact that every morsel of food was one that she had, in the past, shown a taste for. The music played by the bards was of the lively sort; that which she always enjoyed. The only downside was the presence of Lucas, but he remained exiled to the corner of the room. Evidently no one wished to be in his company.

“Lady Alex! I will miss you and your strange eating habits.” Volstagg clapped her on the back, his plate brimming with vegetables. Had Alex not been in the middle of sobbing, she may have laughed. It was... unique... not to find Volstagg with a giant leg of mutton in his grasp.

“All the more reason you should come and visit me,” Alex replied, snatching a crispy potato off his plate. “We have these things on Midgard called barbeques. I think you would be quite the fan.”

Several meads later, she found herself talking with Fandral, who had forgone his usual entourage of fangirls for the evening. Well, actually, he had since Darcy’s departure many months before.

“You know, Alexandra. Had things panned out differently, I think we would have made a fetching couple.”

Alex snorted. “Don’t let Darcy hear you say that. She would use your testicles as a purse.”

Fandral paled. “Indeed she would.” The tall slim blonde captured her in a hug. “You must return to Asgard, with Darcy. I think that would make you both happy.”

Mildly mystified by Fandral’s strangely poignant words, Alex floated through the rest of the party: dancing with Volstagg, laughing with the Avengers, even exchanging small talk with Odin (who showed up briefly). The oddest encounter was with Hogun, who, much to Alex’s delight, bid her farewell with a voice as melodic as the lone flutist she had heard the night she first slept with Loki. She wondered briefly if it had been Hogun holding the instrument.

It was not until Frigga confronted her that Alex realised the lateness of the hour. “Alexandra, I believe it is time for you to visit my son.” The older woman smiled, gently kissing Alex’s cheek. “I will make your excuses.”

oOoOoOo

Her feet barely touched the ground, the clash of her footfalls echoing from the golden walls. How many hours had he waited? Would he be angry? Why did she _want_ him to be angry? Yes they would talk. Eventually. At Geraldine. Now she just wanted him. Wanted him so desperately it made it difficult to think.

The dark wood of his door was cool beneath her knuckles, her knock deep and penetrating. The visage of stunning cedar was soon replaced by the utterly nude figure of Loki, eyes livid, fingers wrapped in soft material of emerald green.

_Her knickers._

“You’re late.” His voice was a low growl, hand clutching her arm, drawing her in. The door shut, her back soon pressed against it. 

“I am so-” 

Her excuse was slashed by his kiss, forceful and delicious. She welcomed his eager tongue, embraced the hard touch of his long fingers, which drew up the skirts of her Asgardian gown in desperate haste. 

“No undergarments?” Loki hissed against her lips. “My, my, you are a little whore tonight.”

Alex moaned as long fingers slid within her, the pad of his thumb stroking her clit. “No impediments.” 

“Good girl.” Withdrawing his fingers, Loki drew her further up the door, clutching her thighs. “Are you sure of this?” His tone was a mere rasp, the head of his cock pressed within her folds.

“Shut up and fuck me, Loki.”

The noise that emanated from Loki’s throat was almost as delicious as the sensation of his presence within her. Dear Odin, she had missed this. His taste, his touch, the little sounds he made with each thrust. Hitching her legs around his waist, Loki moved one hand to her chest, pulling down her gown to reveal her breasts. His mouth attacked, teeth and tongue grazing her nipples as his thrusts took on a more desperate edge. Her own fingers curled in his hair as she came, weeks of pent up desire spilling over with a strangled growl. As her inner walls tightened around him, Loki too, came undone.

Loki did not move, nor did Alex wish him too. The haze of their embrace had left them without need of movement. After a time, Alex kissed Loki’s flushed cheek, tracing the sharp contour of his cheekbone with her tongue.

“Care to tell me why you are holding a pair of my undies?”


	29. You Are Mine, Not His

**Chapter Twenty-Nine  
You Are Mine, Not His.**

The small apartment in Canberra had never seemed as lonely as it did that evening. Across the street, the bar continued its roaring trade, patrons becoming increasingly rowdy with every drop of liquor. The artistic stainless steel clock above the fridge taunted Alex with its relentless ticking, every one reminding her that she was alone. Loki was eons away. The only way she would ever feel his fingers upon her flesh, his lips pressed against hers, would be if he proved himself redeemed. It would be wise to assume she would never be with him again.

Alex did not wish to cry. She would make it through, just like she had all the other complications life threw at her. Surely Loki was merely the first: the key that opened the door to a new world of sexual and emotional experience? She loved him _now_ , but could that tainted love come to anything? It was broken and unstable. 

Yet broken as it was, it had become her reason for breathing. The damaging lust that had haunted her from the onset was now replaced by a destructive _love_. Why did Loki spark such intense reactions within her? She wished she could merely part with a doting of fondness, a mind packed with wonderful memories of a magnificent lover.

Sighing, Alex removed herself from the nest she had created in her living room. The idea of unpacking was repellent, as though the moment her belongings touched ground in their old home, her Asgardian dream would disappear forever. Maybe, between now and the commencement of her Geraldine assignment, she would receive the coveted phone call? A few short words from Fury stating that it had been a mistake. That she needed to go back to Asgard. Go back _home_.

But the phone remained ever silent.

Rustling through the cupboards, Alex located her trusty stash of long life juice and milk. It was hardly appealing, but she had yet to venture into the public eye. She would go shopping tomorrow – or perhaps the next day. The tails of Loki’s coat hissed against the kitchen tiles, his scent filling her nostrils with every step, a taunting reminder of the night before. 

She knew she ought to remove the coat, place it in its plastic coffin and preserve the vestiges of Loki’s scent upon the leather. Yet every time she went to shrug it from her shoulders, memories of the previous night flooded her mind. It was torture. Glorious torture. And it all began with a tiny slip of emerald lace...

oOoOoOo

Loki withdrew completely before venturing to answer her question. Slumped against the door, Alex found it difficult to wrench her gaze from him. Even flushed in the aftermath of their embrace, he was perfection. The sharp contours of his jaw; the endless column of his neck; the toned expanse of his chest; the delectable sight of his semi-erect cock. It drew the breath from her body. She had often pondered how insanely unfair it was. Why should someone so – _bad_ – be so insanely beautiful? What made it worse was the fact that Loki knew exactly what kind of effect he had on women (and men). He played it, manipulated it, sealing the deal with a well-placed kiss or tilted smirk of his formed thin lips.

“You ask too many questions, mortal.”

_Mortal_? Alex almost laughed. Old habits die hard. She watched as Loki unravelled the emerald lace knickers from around his fingers, letting the sheer fabric pool in the palm of his hand. His cock was now completely erect, yet when she strained to reach for it, he slapped away her fingers. 

“They are my favourite.”

The words were as weak as her voice. Loki uttered a breathy chuckle, gently stroking the soft material in his hand. “The undergarments or my cock?”

“Both.”

Alex did not understand the inkling of modesty that assaulted her at this time, causing her to stand straight, scoop the straps of her silken dress over her shoulders. It was not as though modesty had played a part in their relationship before. After all, during their first encounter, she had been wearing naught but a near-transparent nightgown and a pair of walking boots.

Loki cocked an inquiring eyebrow. “And what of my coat?”

Oh, so this was what it was all about. A token for a token. Alex was momentarily struck with the surreal image of Loki riding into battle, her blazing green knickers tied to his belt. She doubted Steve Rogers would partake in such an act to please his lady. But then, the dear Captain was not a sadistic, mischievous sex god.

“I intended to return it.”

“Do not bother. I have several. Just as you have many of these.” Loki dangled the knickers before her, before dropping them into her open palm. “Put them on, remove the dress.”

“And if I don’t want to?” 

A dark glint haunted Loki’s emerald eyes. “I will rip it from you with my teeth.”

The God of Mischief fell onto the bed, long fingers wrapping around his rigid length. Alex could barely move, so intoxicated was she by the sight. It was not as though it was a new thing, but so many weeks had passed...

Gently, she lowered the straps, the silk gown pooling around her ankles. The bruises from Malory’s assault the night before had paled, yet Loki’s expression darked as his eyes fell upon them. With as much dignity as she could muster, Alex slipped into the tiny green knickers.

She had not lied when she said they were her favourite. Yet, this did not necessarily mean she had worn them. They had been purchased during her last excursion to Midgard. The tiny slip of lace and its matching brassiere had caught her eye in one of the more pricey lingerie stores in Canberra. Usually her underwear, both functional and sexy, was purchased from the local Big W, yet the bold green lace had lured her in. She bought them for Loki, yet had never worn them for him. Perhaps she feared they would meet the same fate as her crimson knickers, those that had fallen victim to his wrath in the library.

Loki breath morphed into a hiss at the sight of her. “Turn.”

She did, only to hear the rhythm of Loki’s pumping increase. “These are obscene,” he growled, his unused fingers trailing the hem of the knickers across her arse. She stepped back, closer to his skilled fingers, nearer to _him_. Every inch of her skin was beyond sensitised, her nipples hard pebbles, her clit aching for his touch, his _tongue_. 

The pumping stopped. Alex barely registered as both his hands clamped on her hips, drawing her down upon his legs. The head of his cock brushed passed the lace, spearing her in one sharp thrust of his hips.

“Always so ready,” he moaned into her ear, words burning into her skull. “You really are my little whore.”

Alex merely nodded, rocking her hips against his thrusts, tears making their steady way down flushed cheeks. Loki’s fingers explored, slipping beneath the hem of the knickers to slip between her folds, circling her aching clit. The other hand cupped a breast, squeezing a tight nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

The angle was divine, his cock reaching new depths. If she were to place her palm on her lower stomach, she suspected she would feel his length within her, but her fingers were too busy grasping his thighs, the mattress, anything to stop her sliding off him in her haze of intense physical pleasure.

The moans were guttural as she finally came, leaning back against his chest, eyes clamped shut. His release came soon after.

Her body was weak as he lifted it, laying her almost delicately upon the mattress. Compared to the harsh cedar surface of the door, it was almost ridiculously soft. As the back of her head touched the pillow, her swollen lips were covered by his own. It was the kind of hot, wet kiss she delighted it, fingers curling in his soft raven locks as he ravaged her mouth with his silver tongue. He was relentless, clearly unwilling to allow her even a second to recover. 

A heated trail of kisses left her lips, venturing to the ivory column of her neck. Teeth grazed her collar bone, biting, sucking; the red welt left in their wake sure to last several days. Alex knew she ought to complain, but his mouth was now upon her breast, tongue swirling her nipple while his fingers mimicked the action on its sister. 

She knew what would follow, legs spreading in anticipation. This stance was made wider as his fingers slipped between her thighs, cupping her, fingers rubbing her through the emerald lace. His face soon replaced his hands, tongue flickering across the pale expanse of her inner thighs before running across the tiny triangular front of her knickers. The material dampened further, her hips bucking into his teasing embrace. 

“Tell me what you want, Alexandra.”

Alex expelled an excruciated sigh. “I want you to lick me, Loki.”

“Not nearly good enough. _What. Do. You. Want?”_

“Eat me out, Loki. Just please... do it!”

“If you want me to devour your cunt, Alexandra, you will have to ask me. _Directly_.”

“Fuck you, Loki.”

He chucked against her heated flesh. “I suppose that will have to do, for now.” In the space of seconds, Loki pulled the knickers from her body, moving away only momentarily to unravel the lace from around her ankles. 

Alex’s breath hitched as Loki lowered his face between her outstretched thighs. The heat of his tongue against her swollen flesh was almost unbearable, the light, teasing strokes against her clit. He seemed almost to purr into her sex, fingernails gripping her arse now, licks becoming longer. Was it possible that he was enjoying this even more than she?

With every lick, every stroke, every suck, she melted further into him. Weaving her fingers through his raven locks, she pushed him closer, back arching against fluffy haven of the bed.

“Loki...”

The moan left her mouth before she could stop it. His responding groan vibrated against her clit, his tongue making a quick exploration of her entrance. This was swiftly replaced by two long fingers. Alex gasped as they plunged deep enough to hit her g-spot, a place she barely reached herself. Loki curved his fingers, massaging the area, his lips curled into a smirk as she rocked against him.

“Is this not better, little one? Obey me and I can be a most accommodating master.” Fortunately, his verbal seduction did not continue, his tongue circling her clit rapidly as his fingers thrust. Alex felt the strings of control keeping her together start to snap, her body, soul and mind unravelling under his skilled ministrations. Stars dashed behind her closed eyes as she found the end, back arching from the bed, fingers nearly ripping the hair from his skull...

oOoOoOo

Even now, enclosed in the pale walls of her apartment, Alex could feel the residual effects of his lips upon her sex. Slowly, her fingers slipped beneath the loose hem of her pyjama pants, own cool fingertips finding her memory aroused clit. As she stroked, Loki’s scent doused her, the ghosts of his words taunting her from the past.

oOoOoOo

The cascade of the shower was relentless against her back, her pale hair turned to ribbons as the water clung to every strand. The pain in her knees did not register. She concentrated instead on his instructions...

_Use only your lips and tongue. I will fuck your mouth later._

She should be annoyed with Loki, sick of his foul tongue, yet even as the words emerged she felt herself dampen. Even now could feel her own desire dripping down her thighs, mingling with the water, the ache in her sex intensifying as she licked the head of his cock. He was pure steel beneath her lips, hot and delicious as she nipped, licked and kissed her way to his base. A gasp escaped his lips as her tongue fondled his testicles. Later, she decided, she would make him come simply through sucking and licking the glorious sac. She moved away, continuing her assault upon his weeping head until he came, his sticky fluid spraying her naked breasts and neck, only to be washed away by the water. 

As she rose to her feet, Loki drew her close. “You are _mine_ , not his.”

“Yours.”

oOoOoOo

Rest did not meet them that night, nor did they covet it. They kissed, loved, fucked, sucked, licked, laughed, spoke, cuddled until the first vestige of sunlight dribbled through his heavy golden curtains.

The mood had grown sullen then. Any minute, the stitches would appear, and Loki would be escorted to his daily prison. Their actions had said much, yet the final silence was a cruel torture neither of them could bare.

“We will be together again soon, Alexandra. I will make sure of it.”

“Be good.”

A small smile curled his lips. “I have incentive enough to be so.”

oOoOoOo

He promised they would be together, but as Alex brought herself to the edge on the cluttered floor of her own apartment, she wondered what context that would be in. Would he attempt seduction within the heavily monitored cell at Geraldine? Would he escape; attempt once more to rule Midgard with her as his personal whore? She could not help but shake the feeling that he would eventually tire of her. With a plethora of succulent mortals at his beck and call, what would he see in her?

She had not gone to see him again before she left. She wanted to remember her lover, the Adonis sprawled in bed beside her, not the chained, silenced man in the courtyard. The final hours in Asgard were all she had before reality took hold. Geraldine. Malory. Midgard. 

Her final moment in Asgard was spent with Frigga.

The Queen drew her aside, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “It is sad to see you leave so soon, Agent Beckett.”

“It is sad to leave,” Alex replied, her internal monologue screaming: _don’t cry! Don’t cry_! It was then than Frigga did the unexpected, wrapping her arms around Alex. The words she whispered into Alex’s ears were those she would never forget. They haunted her on the flight back to Canberra, taunted her as she remained alone within the apartment. They would also follow her to Geraldine.

“Look after my son, Alexandra.”


	30. Whatever Tortures

**Chapter Thirty  
Whatever Tortures**

The landscape was desperately flat: red soil, looming sand-dunes and seas of dense coastal scrub spreading for miles. Drops of colour could be seen scattered along the roadside: delicate wildflowers, deceptively fragile in the harsh desert. Cut through this sheer environment, the Brand Highway glistened, heat rising from it in dancing waves. The black SUV glided easily across this river of tar and stone, silent as the figures seated within. Loki did not particularly mind the lack of discussion. What he _did_ mind was his position within the air-conditioned box. Squashed between the cumbersome bulk of his brother and the soldier Steve Rogers, Loki was barely able to spread his legs for comfort. Upon his wrists and ankles, silver chains glistened, while his tongue was silenced by a heavy metal gag. The only redeeming aspect of his venture to Midgard was the fact that his powers had returned. He could feel the magic churning through every vein, swamping his mind, sensitising every nerve. It was intoxicating.

Yet he could do nothing about it. 

The restraints, designed based on the configuration of his blood, stunted his ability to utilise his natural talents. He would channel the river of energy to his fingers, only to have it sputter into oblivion upon reaching the infuriating metal bracelet. All he could do was sit, his eyes trained on the front windscreen. 

In his long life, Loki had never ventured to the southern continent known as Australia. It was not a slab of land that particularly appealed to him. Perhaps this was why the Midgardians had chosen it as the location of his prison? Maybe Thor had told his new allies of all that plagued Loki, delicious little details they could utilise to make his experience on Midgard all the more torturous? 

The huge ball of hydrogen and helium the Midgardians referred to as “the sun” grew golden, falling further into the horizon. As darkness swept over the landscape, the SUV rolled into a side road, instantly consumed by dark swathes of coastal plant life. Decrepit dirt roads sprung off in all directions, the driver negotiating the labyrinth, stopping every so often as a giant jumping beast cut across the path of the vehicle. Thor, a smug smile on his lips, decided it was necessary to tell Loki the name of the beast: kangaroo. Utterly ridiculous.

After what seemed a lifetime of twists and turns (including a detour past an abandoned bus), the SUV pulled out into a clearing. At its centre, a small campfire blazed, several disguised S.H.I.E.L.D agents perched around it, cooking fluffy white _things_ on the tips of gnarled sticks. One of these agents came to the driver’s window, a shard of pale blonde hair sticking out from beneath a woollen hat. The temperature, it seemed, dropped quickly in this Midgardian hell.

The rugged up agent slipped into the front seat, briefly shaking hands with the driver. “Agent Montgomery, I am Agent Beckett. I will be your liaison here at Geraldine.”

The driver nodded, smiling for the first time all day. “Sorry about the time. Got a bit lost. This place really is in the middle of no-where, isn’t it?”

“That’s the whole point.” Agent Beckett, _Alexandra_ , turned to face the three men in the backseat. “Steve, Thor, it is good to see you again.” 

“Lady Alex! You are looking well.” Thor’s monumental boom sounded deafening within the SUV, especially after a day’s heavenly silence. “But your hair! It is gone!”

Alexandra chuckled, lifting the woollen hat from her head. Thor was not wrong. The long river of tallow hair was gone, replaced now by a severe bob, layered; falling just short of her shoulders. “Hardly Thor, I just needed a change.”

A trickle of small-talk followed when Steve Rogers finally decided to open his mouth. Not once did the blonde agent send a glance in Loki’s direction, not even a fleeting one. Had two months been all she needed to wipe him unceremoniously from her mind? Perhaps she had been bedding another Midgardian, a pathetic whelp, while he remained chained in Odin’s courtyard? 

Alexandra directed the driver a short distance from the campsite, leading them into a small valley among the crooked trees. Unlike the landscape around it, the valley was green, a blanket of oddly thick grass sprouting from every surface. It seemed almost obscenely bright in the glowing luminescence of the SUV headlamps. Loki watched as his ex-lover fished a small black box out of her pocket, pressing her thumb in its centre. The box bleeped, causing the hillside directly before them to rumble, splitting apart to reveal a large, concrete lined cavern.

“Nifty,” Agent Montgomery stated, leading the car into the tunnel. If there was something Loki could say about S.H.I.E.L.D, it was that in the field of interior decorating, they were notably consistent. The long tunnel was not unlike that he had ventured through after his arrival in the S.H.I.E.L.D base in New Mexico. It was hard to believe those events had taken place just over a year ago. To Loki, it felt like a lifetime.

As the SUV trembled on, Loki found himself idly listening to the new sprung conversation. There was an inflection in his Alexandra’s voice that he found intriguing. Perhaps it was awkward for her to be in such close confines to the man she had once shamelessly bedded? Perhaps the sight of him chained and gagged caused her no-doubt lacy little knickers to dampen? 

“While you’re here, you’re predominantly going to be using the mine shaft elevators,” Alex told Rogers, Thor and Montgomery. “We try to use the vehicle access as little as possible.   
Unfortunately, it prove difficult to deter tourists from using the campsite, so for the most part we try to make the place look as normal as we can.”

Of course, the Midgardians had already shown their displeasure at Loki's imprisonment on their world. Should the location of his jail become public, he had no doubt it would be catastrophic. He wondered briefly if he would ever see the sky again.

Eventually the SUV stopped, pulling into a large open space. The concrete was gone now, the walls haggardly cut into the iron rich rock. All four doors of the vehicle sprung open, Thor grabbing Loki’s arm as they stepped out onto a landing. Loki almost fell, his cramped legs screaming after a day squashed in the back seat. Two dozen armed guards took up position around them, forming the entourage that would lead straight to Loki’s prison cell. 

_Whatever tortures Fury could concoct..._

Even as he was steered through the austere corridors, tolerating the blatant stares of S.H.I.E.L.D employees, Loki wondered exactly what these tortures could be. This question was swiftly answered as Tony Stark rounded the next corner.

“Well, look at Christian Grey here. Chains holding up?”

The question was aimed at Thor, who, as was usual when confronted with Stark’s banter, looked confused. “The restraints are working well, Man of Iron.”

Stark smirked. “How many times do I need to tell you to call me Tony? Or Mr Stark? Or at least _God_.” 

“If you wish to be known as a deity, you could-” Thor’s words were cut short as Steve Rogers, once more, raised his voice.

“Christian Grey?”

“Into chains and shit.”

Alexandra smirked. “Pretty sure Christian Grey likes using the chains and gags on _other_ people.”

Stark shot a look back in Loki’s direction. “He would if he could, kinky bastard. On the other hand, he could be the girl. I mean honestly, does he _ever_ shave? My Aunt Mildred has more hair on her chin than this guy. Or does he have a full blown Christian Bale as Batman in prison beard going on behind that gag?”

Rogers frowned. “Stark, do you _ever_ stop talking?”

“The answer to that would be _no_.” Stark lead them through a few more corridors, winking at a few lackies along the way. The majority of the employees within Geraldine prison were Australian, none of whom had met the infamous Iron Man before his arrival in Geraldine months before. It had caused quite a stir.

Finally they came to a large, steel door. Both Alexandra and Stark had to take a retinal and fingerprint scan before the sheet of metal hissed open. Though he knew it was an inevitability, Loki was somewhat reluctant to step within.

It was a foyer, overlooking a monumental glass cage. Unlike the Hulk’s cage, this boasted several rooms. Loki winced upon noticing the visible nature of his bathing and toilet facilities. Apparently modesty was something he would have to leave behind. Other than that, there was a bedroom containing a large, yet plain bed; a sitting room full of books; and a dining room, which Loki suspected could also be doubled up as an interrogation chamber. The observatory was bustling with various mortals in S.H.I.E.L.D uniforms and white lab coats: notably among them, Lucas Malory.

“Excellent, excellent. It seems as though our guest has made it here in one piece.” While the words left the mortal’s mouth, he placed a large, tanned hand upon Alexandra’s shoulder. “The shield is up and running, all we have to do is test it.”

_Shield_? 

Leaving behind most of the guards; the Avengers, Loki, Alexandra and Malory squeezed into a large elevator. The metal cage hummed in its descent, twin doors opening into the entrance of Loki’s new home. It was not nearly as awful as he had imagined. One thousand years ago, the Midgardians would have likely thrown him in a rat infested pit, his punishment being a daily shower of waste dumped upon his head. 

Thor gently tapped the glass. “What is the nature of this shield?”

Stark stepped forward, opening one of the many doors to the cage. “It is designed to completely subdue the energy that gives Rock of Ages here his power. Unfortunately we were unable to specifically focus on his brand of energy, so it works on all energy of this kind. In short, once your inside, the only thing you’ll be able to do with your hammer is build a cabinet.”

“So it is a magic shield?”

Stark winced. “What you call magic is simply a form of energy. Energy is my forte.”

The further Loki ventured into his new prison, the more and more nauseous he became. It did not make sense. Odin had stripped him of all power, but he had never been weakened by the experience. It was only as his eyes fell upon his chained hands that Loki realised what was happening.

The pale flesh was slowly turning periwinkle, morphing into a bold cobalt the deeper he went. 

“Holy fuck, he’s blue.”

Blunt though Stark was, Loki could not help but share his shock. His Jotunn form was not something he particularly enjoyed showing off, yet here it was in all its hideous glory. He could not even bear to look at Alexandra, no doubt paralysed with horror that she had allowed such a monstrous creature to bed her. 

“I should have foreseen this.” Thor frowned, his brow crinkled. It occurred to Loki that this was the first time his brother had seen his true form. No doubt, the God of Thunder was fighting back the undeniable urge to whack him round the head with Mjolnir. “This is Loki’s Jotunn form. My father’s magic has kept it at bay.”

“Only now I’ve snatched your energy and your brother has turned into Jake Sully.” A cruel grin spread across Stark’s face. “Or perhaps Papa Smurf? I wonder, does he prefer to live under mushrooms or in a big ass tree?”

Loki, like most of the people gathered, had no idea what Stark was talking about. He did not even feel the need to retort when his gag and chains were finally removed. So, this was his punishment. Spending the rest of his life Jotunn, blue, horrid, repellent to the fleeting Midgardian woman he had wasted his love on.

Torturous, indeed.


	31. Sleaze's Secret Society

**Chapter Thirty-One  
Sleaze’s Secret Society**

_January 2012_

The briefing took place over a breakfast platter brimming with muffins, croissants, bagels, crumpets and even vegemite on toast. Yet despite the delicacies placed before them, the sleep-deprived recruits found themselves less than inclined toward feasting. Alex suspected that it was not the food itself that curdled their stomachs, but rather the man at head of the large oak table. 

Lucas Malory was always immaculately dressed. Today his suit was a sleek Armani number in charcoal grey, set off with a crisp white shirt and obsidian tie. His hair, still damp from the shower, curled at the nape of his neck. Chocolate brown eyes, anything but warm, snapped from recruit to recruit. 

There were sixteen of them in total; known around the Western Australian complex as “Triple S” or “Sleaze’s Secret Society”. They were the elite, the best of the best. After months of exhaustive training, mental testing and psychological evaluations they had been chosen. But for what, absolutely none of them knew. 

Alex knew she should be proud of her achievement. Not only had she advanced past her office job, but proven herself above some of Australia’s finest candidates. Yet deep down inside, she could not shake the insecurity that she was only here because Malory enjoyed her body. He sent for her most nights, yet thankfully what progressed had remained a secret from the rest of the recruits. They all loathed Malory. Just imagine what they would think of _her_ if they discovered she was his whore, albeit a thoroughly unwilling one.

Her mind drifted back to a conversation had with Justin only a few nights before. Her best friend had been waxing poetic about his glorious new girl, the sparky red-head he had encountered during one of their free weekends in Perth. Anna, her name was. According to Justin, she was absolutely everything he had been looking for.

“...and she has a brother, you know. I’ll be meeting him next time we’re on leave. Apparently he’s _single_...”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Justin, you are officially the worst matchmaker of all time.”

“Don’t say that until you meet the guy. He could be perfect. _Or_ there’s the cousin – he’s English. Apparently he’s an actor. Tall – cheekbones.”

“Still the worst matchmaker of all time. You know how much I hate blind dates.”

“It may get Sir Sleaze off your back.”

“Sir Sleaze? Honestly, surely you can do better than that?”

Justin snorted. “Well, I was tossing around with ‘Cunt Flap’, but I thought that might be a little crass for such civilised company.”

“Me, civilised?”

“You drink Coke out of a wine glass. It’s un-Australian.” Justin’s expression darkened. “But in all seriousness. He’s been ogling you. It’s fucking creepy. You need to find yourself a bloke just to get Sleaze to back off... even if it’s just for a couple of drinks.”

Alex swallowed hard at this point. Her friend had meant it all in good spirits. Evidently this Anna girl was good for him, and he merely wanted to see Alex with the same ridiculous smile on her face. But that would be impossible. If Malory found out she had seen either of those men: Anna’s brother or Mr. English, she would find herself out of a job quicker than she could say “cheekbones”.

Justin was at the table now, idly nibbling at a bagel. Alex chose to stick to her coffee, her stomach quivering at the thought of much else. 

“Welcome.” Malory opened his arms, as though to embrace them in a disgustingly figurative hug. “Congratulations for making it _this_ far. You are the best. The cream of the crop. The elite. Out of the three hundred recruits at this base, it is you that have been chosen. Once more, congratulations.”

Alex stole a glance at Justin, whose dark blonde eyebrows seemed on a collision course with his hairline. It was clear Justin body talk for “ _get to the fucking point_ ”. It was at this moment that Malory threw an image up on the enormous screen behind him. Or more, a _series_ of images. Alex could not stop her jaw dropping. The mirage of images looked like something out of a superhero film, or a horror flick. 

The next three hours had changed her life.

Everything she thought she knew about the world seemed instantly wrong. There were superheroes, monsters, aliens, magic, weapons unlike anything she had ever imagined, rainbow bridges, demi-gods, magical hammers that summoned lightening, big green monsters that ruined cities. 

One hour later “Triple S” boarded a plane to the United States. 

Mere months later the rest of her team, including Justin, lost their lives aboard the S.H.I.E.L.D helicarrier, the unwarranted victims of Loki’s attack.

Weeks after that, she was in Loki’s bed.

Oh, Malory may have taught her all about monsters. His training and abuse may have prepared her to combat them. Yet all of it was for nothing. She could not beat up herself. No, _she_ was the monster. Her best friend had been murdered, and rather than seek vengeance, she had sex with his murderer.

It was unforgivable.

oOoOoOo

_September 2013_

The short bob of dusky blonde hair bounced around her shoulders, its new length still something of fascination to her. The hairdresser had been loath to cut it.  
“But such long, beautiful hair! _Why-?_ ”

_Why_? Alex wondered what the sweet little brunette would say should she hear the truth. Every inch of that long, curling caramel mane reminded her of Asgard. It still smelled of the water. She could almost feel Loki’s long, pale fingers running through it has he slid into her; or his tight grasp as her lips wrapped around his cock.

It simply had to go.

“I need a change,” she had replied simply. 

As each shard of hair fell away, she felt lighter: not just literally, but mentally as well. The pile of blonde hair gathering on the ground represented the hoard of tantalising memories: wisps of a future she could never rightfully have. It was foolish to grow so attached to Asgard: to Sif, the Warriors, the Queen, the City, the Market, the mountains... _Loki_. The more she loved them, the more difficult it became to leave. 

Her time in Canberra had been short and sweet. The days were fine. She spent them unpacking and repacking, avoiding her family, munching on delicious roast pumpkin pizza with her friends on the tranquil shores of Lake Burley Griffin. She did not even need to concern herself with Malory – who would doubtless be waiting for her at Geraldine station. 

It was the nights that tortured her.

Loki haunted her dreams: his tongue, fingers, hair, cheekbones, body, voice, cock. 

Every morning she would awake in such an utter state of arousal that only a cold shower seemed to help. She did everything she could to try and eradicate the dreams: sleeping pills, hot milk, locking away everything that reminded her of Loki... _cutting her hair_. They helped, _slightly_ , but only temporarily. 

The worst thing about being home was the absence of Justin. She had always taken him for granted, assumed he would be there, her right hand man. But he was dead. He never got the chance to say goodbye to Anna, to introduce Alex to the brother or the English cousin. One of the smartest, kindest men she had ever known was gone. And it was only now that Alex allowed herself to mourn.

And to writhe in guilt.

She was the only survivor, the last of Sleaze’s Secret Society. The best of the best. The elite. All dead because of the man soon to be imprisoned within Geraldine. Yet as much as she tried, Alex could not hate Loki. Every time she felt the caustic emotion boiling up inside her, it ended up shooting out toward Malory. The disgusting wretch of a man that had allowed his entire team to fall prey to a masochist while he hid away in a supply locker. At least Alex had been in the thick of the action...

No, she could not hate Loki. Only Malory. And herself. 

The transition into her role at Geraldine happened fluidly, much easier than she anticipated. The base remained secret, buried beneath the rust coloured rock of the Western Australian desert. Yet, its purpose was as public as those that openly campaigned against it. Calls for America to “take care of its own garbage” had sprung up all over the great southern land. On the cusp of an election; the current administration found itself flooded by vitriolic abuse from the opposition party. Various media outlets demanded that the government reveal the location of the prison. Riots and organised protests sprung up all over the country. Even the surrounding nations: New Zealand, Indonesia, Papa New Guinea, _Japan_ exploded in shock that such a dangerous inmate was so close to home. 

After a heated discussion with Malory, Alex found herself volunteered as Geraldine’s ‘public face’. 

The memory of her first press conference still haunted her to this day.

“Agent Beckett – this _Loki_ , do you think he is a threat to national security?”

“Agent Beckett – can you tell us why _we_ have to do the dirty work?”

“Agent Beckett – what do you hope to achieve by keeping the war criminal _here_?”

“Agent Beckett – on behalf of the Australian nation – _where is the prison_?”

Every security clearance she ever signed, every chance she had for long term employment with S.H.I.E.L.D, seemed to disappear as her image appeared on every newspaper, website and anti-Loki blog in the country. 

After a while, she was able to tune out the vitriol. It was rubbish. All of it. She just wondered what the press would do if they found out about just how close to Loki she had actually become.  
It was for this reason that she soon came to embrace the long weeks spent below ground at Geraldine. No flashing lights, loud voices, abuse. Just S.H.I.E.L.D agents, scientists... the occasional visitation from Tony Stark. It was almost tranquil.

Or it would have been if it had not been for Malory.

He had come to her the very first night she stepped foot within Geraldine. Her quarters seemed infinitely smaller with his bulk presence, the smear of a smirk on his face. It was tempting to throw a punch his way, but he was now her _boss_. 

“Alex, Alex, Alex... you are much too aggressive, my little duck.”

Alex merely gritted her teeth.

“I told you in Asgard that you will be mine again, little one. And you will be.” He moved forward, cupping her face. She tried to turn away, but his grip hardened. “If you fight it, I will only fuck you harder, you little slut.” The grip on her chin was so tight now her eyes began to water. She tried to speak, only to have him slap her across the cheek. “And this time, your lover boy won’t be here to save you. Well, he will be _here_ , but he’ll be behind the glass. Helpless. Perhaps I’ll fuck you in front of him...?”

“Lucas-”

“Don’t try to deny it, Alexandra! I heard it from the horse’s mouth. He came to me, you see, and told me to keep my hands off you. Imagine that. A murderer ordering me to keep my hands off my own fucking property.”

“I am not yours.”

“Are you his? Is that it?” Grabbing her lapels, Malory thrust her against the wall. “You fucking little bitch. Do you really think he _loves_ you? Sorry to break it to you, sweet heart, but all you are is a cunt and a pair of tits. He only ever saw you as something to ram his cock into... which is exactly what I intend to do.”

“No, please...” Tears streamed down Alex’s reddened cheeks now, fingers uselessly flailing against Malory’s arm. 

“Are you crying, slut? Are you that fucking stupid? Imagine what Fury would say if he found out his precious little Agent Beckett spent a whole year pounding the mattress with the very same bloke she was meant to be monitoring? Something tells me that wouldn’t go down too well, now would it?”

Alex never imagined it would be in a moment like this she would find her bravery. Perhaps it wasn’t bravery at all, but a snippet of stupidity. 

“Tell him.”

Malory stopped. “Excuse me?”

“I said: TELL HIM!” Her voice echoed around the room. “You heard me. Tell him! Sing it from the fucking rooftops if you like, Lucas. See if I care. But rest assured, if Fury hears even a whisper of this from your lips, I will tell him about all the times you have raped me. All the other agents you have had your way with. I’m sure Fury would love to hear that one of his operatives is a sex offender. Oh wait, how about I tell your _wife_.”

Worry flashed past Malory’s eyes at this point. “You wouldn’t dare-”

“Oh trust me, Lucas. That poor woman deserves to know what a pig she married.”

“If you tell her, I will fucking kill you.”

“Good luck with that.”

Malory drew away. “What is it that you want?”

“You’re a smart man, Lucas, surely you have figured that out? Or are you just a cock with a nice face?” 

“I am your BOSS.”

“You are also the man who blackmailed me, so forgive me if that technicality has passed me by. We are at an impasse. You don’t tattle about my _affair_ with Loki, and I won’t tell Fury and your wife about your little... activities.”

“You will pay for this, Beckett.”

“I really don’t see how, I don’t have anything to lose.”

Despite this initial victory, Malory had pulled the Loki-card again when convincing Alex to be the public face. Only this time he was not threatening to tell Fury, but rather Tony Stark, who had recently shown up on the base. 

While her time in Geraldine was mildly nerve-wracking, Alex could not help but feel consoled that she did not have to worry about Lucas’ grappling fingers. Well, not intimately anyway. He would still cup her shoulder, or send fake indulgent smiles her way. Sometimes she desperately wished Sif was around. The Goddess of War would have no qualms ramming the edge of her practise sword into Malory’s smug face. 

The weeks moved swiftly, the day of Loki’s arrival looming ever closer. Despite her new found strength, Alex was concerned as to how she would react upon seeing him again. As she slipped into the SUV, every nerve in her body had screamed. His scent was everywhere. Though she refused to look at him, she could feel his eyes shadowing her every movement. Her Loki. Her sexy, glorious god – chained and gagged. It was necessary, but not something she was particularly looking forward to greeting on a day to day basis. 

Throughout the tour of Geraldine she seemed to run on autopilot, every joke instantly forgotten, the words leaving her mouth bypassing the pond of her memory. It was just Loki. Loki, damned bloody Loki. For months she had tried to exorcise him from her mind, yet here he was again – causing her blood to boil, her mind to race, her knickers to dampen. He was a prisoner for crying out loud! 

_We will be together again soon, Alexandra. I will make sure of it_.

As his words popped into her head, she almost choked on a sob. Did he mean now? How could they possibly be together? Even if he did redeem himself, the residents of Earth, of _Australia_ , would never rest until his head was mounted on a spike. 

As he was led into his cell, her Loki had almost seemed resigned. The slight leer of horror at the public nature of his bathing facilities was not missed on her. Yet, this sprig of emotion was soon hidden. 

And then he turned blue.

It was not a particularly subtle shade of the colour, its hue akin to that of the bright outback sky. Eyes that once shone green were now crimson: large, fearful, down cast. 

Yes, it was shocking, truly shocking. 

As was the fact that he was now radiating cold, as though someone had plonked a Loki shaped iceberg into the room with them. 

In a way she had expected it. She had seen the painting of Loki’s true father in the gallery. It was therefore not necessarily the blue that terrified her, but Loki’s expression. Horror, disgust, shame. It was evident that he hated every millimetre of cobalt flesh. 

To him this transformation was pure torture.

And it made her job a damn sight more difficult.


	32. The Two Princes

**Chapter Thirty-Two  
The Two Princes**

_The tiny raven-haired child sunk deeper into the plush mattress. Tiny fingers grasped the emerald comforter, drawing the fluffy barrier up over his mouth. By the end of the tale, it would likely be above his head. Both he and his brother would be naught but shaking lumps beneath the covers. No doubt they would beg cousin Sverrir to stop, but the traveller would never cease his narration until his stories were complete._

 _“The two princes...” he continued, “did not heed their father’s warning. For so long they had heard stories of the terrible giant that lived in the forest, but they had never seen him. Surely if he was_ that _big and_ that _blue he would be obvious?_

_“After many days and nights, they finally made it to the giant’s cave. The air coming from its mouth was so cold; the princes feared they could freeze to death before making it past the threshold. The giant was said to have the power to cause blizzards, turn rivers to ice and freeze a man with his mere touch. But the princes were prepared. They had brought fire with them. Surely that would melt the giant?_

_“The moment the princes stepped into the darkness, they wished they had not brought the torches. Bones of children lined the walls, their jaws cracked into monstrous screams. The air was dank with the scent of blood, and the foul aroma of the giant himself._

_“What the princes did not know was that this was the cave of Laufey, king of all the giants, and by far the strongest. His favourite food was little princes, who he would boil alive to make a thick, tasty soup. When he had eaten, he would choose the finest bones, grinding them up as flour to make his bread.”_

_At this, the tiny ball of green swathed Loki had spoken up. “But you said there were bones at the caves entrance. Why didn’t he ground them up?”_

_Sverrir shot his young cousin a sharp look, eyes rolling in his travel-worn face. “As I said, he only chose the finest bones. He was particularly fond of femurs. Anyway, do you want me to finish this story or not?”_

_Loki nodded vigorously. Not that he had a choice. Sverrir always found a way to finish his stories._

_“The little princes went deeper and deeper into the cave. The deeper they got, the colder it became. Soon the walls were glistening with ice. At this stage, the youngest and smartest of the prince, a strapping lad called Luke, started to question their mission. His older brother was always leading him into situations like this. But Arthur was strong and brave; surely he would protect them from the giant?_

_“He was just wondering whether to ask his brother if it was such a great idea, when a loud booming voice filled the cave._

_“FE FI FO FUM! WHO HATH BROUGHT FIRE INTO MY KINGDOM?”_

_“A blue light filled the cavern. Arthur and Luke beheld the giant with great terror, sitting upon a throne made of the skulls of those kings he had defeated. He was a creature scaly and blue, with eyes like glimmering rubies and teeth sharp and red as rusted nails._

_“Laufey lifted himself from the throne, his bald head brushing against the roof of the cave. His monstrous mouth split into a grin._

_“Two little princelings! Fat and plump, my favourite kind.”_

_“While Luke was wary, Arthur did not take kindly to being called ‘fat and plump’. He worked every day at the training yards to be the finest prince he could. As for Luke, he was slim as a willow wand. It was this tiny discretion on the giant’s part that gave the small, smart prince an idea._

_“As was expected, Arthur leapt forward, sword and fire before him. The cavern filled with the giant’s hideous guffaws._

_“You think you can defeat me, little prince. I will be nibbling on your insides before the hour is through!”_

_“It was in this moment that young prince Luke grabbed the torch from his brother’s hands and threw it into Laufey’s boiling cauldron. Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but the youngest prince clapped his hand over his mouth, whispering in his brother’s ear. “The giant is blind, brother, but not deaf.”_

_“Arthur shot him a confused look, but did not question. Luke was perceptive, and rarely had his observations been wrong. The princes tip-toed around the hideous blue giant, making sure not to stand on the ancient bones or slip on the greasy rocks. It was only once Luke was perched on Laufey’s throne that he spoke, quietly, once more._

_“Brother, go and make noise. You are good at that.”_

_“Whispers? Whispers?” The giant boomed. “Are you princes or little mice?”_

_“Arthur began to scream and yell, banging his sword on the cauldron, the walls, the huge throne. The giant bellowed, running toward the sound, when Luke jumped into his back. From beneath his cloak, the youngest prince revealed a glistening gold sword, that of his father, which he plunged deep into Laufey’s exposed neck._

_“The giant moaned and groaned,_  
“Screamed and shrieked,   
“Cursed and swore –   
“Until finally he fell in a heap on the floor. 

_“Though Luke was the victor, his brother was still the strongest. Taking his sword once more in hand, the older brother cut off the giant’s head, which they took back to their father as a trophy. From that day forth, there was never snow, nor cold, not blizzards, nor ice in the kingdom. And Luke became known as the Giant Killer, a worthy and noble title, that earned him his very own castle and many a fair maiden to serve his every whim...”_

_The coverlet never found its way over the head of the little princes. The tale they had expected to be terrifying had turned heroic. Perhaps Sverrir had taken pity on them. Or perhaps he was suggesting something else? Little Loki had always taken it as the latter..._

Perched on the end of his austere queen-sized bed, Loki allowed his gaze to fall upon cobalt skin. As a boy, he had imagined himself as Luke. Cousin Sverrir was a traveller, perhaps he was also a prophet? In a way, he _was_. 

He and Thor had indeed ventured into the giant’s lair, despite Loki’s own misgivings. 

It had been Loki who had slain King Laufey using his _father’s_ weapon. 

But nowhere in the foolish tale had it mentioned that Laufey was Luke’s father. He did not turn blue. He was not rejected by all, thrust into an abyss, tortured by Thanos and clapped in a glass cage to live an eternity as the monster he slew. 

He did not lash out when the restraints were removed. Nor did he look at his captors. It was only when the gag fell from his lips that he allowed any form of movement to wrack his body.

“What have you done to me?”

Of course, the question was utterly foolish. He knew exactly what had been done to him. For the first time in his entire life he was entirely without magic. He had thought the lack of power during his incarceration was bad enough. But this was something else. He could not even feel the tingle of Odin’s magic, that brush of feeling that had been with him his entire life. 

The first two days of his new life were volatile at best. The floor to ceiling mirrors that adorned his wardrobe were the first victims of his wrath. For the rest of the day, he had been banished from his bedroom while several S.H.I.E.L.D lackeys had removed the tiny shards of broken glass. Now all that remained of his wardrobe was a large open chasm. His anger had also been exacted upon several pieces of furniture, every meal the pathetic humans had thought to bring him and, of course, his brother. He raged like a petulant child, lashing at everyone and everything. It was as though every iota of fury he had felt in the past few years; ever snag of hopelessness or pang of jealousy, was being concentrated into a raging ball of pure anger. It was only made worse when he was visited by Malory. 

Several guards had been sent in prior to the mortal’s arrival. Loki did not see the point in attacking them, though if cousin Sverrir’s story was anything to go by, that is what he should be doing. His wrists and ankles were bound, chained to one of the chairs that adorned his dinner table. 

That is when Malory entered.

“Good afternoon, Loki.” The dark haired human sat on the opposing chair, elbows resting on the smooth surface of the table. 

Loki merely sneered. “You are wasting your time. I told you nothing in Asgard, I will tell you nothing here.”

“Oh, I have ways of making you talk.” Malory pulled out a small square device, pressing a small button. The glass around them darkened, becoming completely opaque. For the first time in days, Loki could not see the hoards of little human ants watching his every move. It was almost... comforting. 

“No one can hear anything you say, nor can they see us. The cameras are disabled.” It was only after this declaration that Malory revealed the contents of his other pocket. Loki struggled to keep his face nonchalant as his gaze fell on the lacy green knickers. _Her_ knickers. The very same pair that he had souvenired during their final night together. How had Malory...?

“You should be more careful with your belongings. I found these in the pocket of your jacket. Imagine if someone else had come across them. One DNA test and your beloved Alexandra would find herself clapped in chains quicker than you could say _kneel_.”

Of course. They had taken away his armour, forcing him to wear a hideous jumpsuit of nondescript grey. It clashed terribly with the natural tone of his skin. Alexandra’s lacy underwear had been in left pocket of his pants, as close as they could possibly get to his...

“I won’t tell anyone about it, if you agree to answer a few of my questions.”

“And what makes you think I care if you do?”

“Oh, just a little something Alexandra mentioned as I fucked her last night. Something about how pathetically in love you were. She is such a dear little whore, but don’t let the wetness of her cunt fool you. The bitch is incapable of loving you back.”

Loki knew Malory was lying. Not just lying, but blatantly lying. Everything from his posture, to the glint in his eyes told Loki that everything that spilt from the man’s mouth was foolish vitriol, without an inkling of truth. Loki had been the God of Lies long enough to realise when someone was attempting to fool him.

Nevertheless, the words stabbed him. He had spoken about his Alexandra in foul terms on many occasions, but hearing her described as a “little whore” by Lucas Malory made his blood boil. His fingers curled in their restraints, jaw tightening. 

That was how Malory knew he had been successful.

“Splendid, so we have an agreement then. You give us information, and we may just consider letting you have a few privileges.”

“I don’t want privileges.”

Malory smirked. “The dimming of the glass is a feature also applicable to your bedroom. Perhaps one evening...”

“If you are trying to tempt me using Alexandra as bait, you will not be successful. In case you have not noticed, Malory. I am Jotunn. Alexandra would not touch me even should we have the opportunity.”

“Oh, I don’t think our mutual whore is all that fussy.”

“I will not answer your questions.”

“I thought we had come to the agreement that you _would_.” Malory sighed dramatically. “You really ought to be more forthcoming, considering your position.”

“And you ought to work on your interrogation techniques. I will not talk to you. I will only talk to Alexandra.”

Malory cocked an eyebrow. “And what will you tell her?”

“Everything.”


	33. An Impressive Cage

**Chapter Thirty-Three  
An Impressive Cage**

The sheer bleep of her mobile phone was unadulterated torture. Yet, when one stream of ringing fell flat, another would spring up in its place. Alex knew it was unprofessional to ignore her phone, even if it was one her coveted days off. The haven of her bed did little to ease the pain of the previous night or shield her eyes from the imprint of hundreds of flashes. The Australian press had been relentless, even to the point that the seemingly unflappable Tony Stark had been taken aback.

Loki was in Australia. While the press knew that he was coming, upon learning of his arrival, they _demanded_ interviews. Would the prisoner make a statement? Would the press be allowed into the prison? And of course, the old favourites resurfaced: what if he tried to escape? Where was the prison? The only redeeming features of the entire night were the fact Tony was with her, he bought her a large drink afterwards and the press conference was in Canberra: which meant she got one delicious night in her own apartment. 

Crawling from beneath the covers, Alex grabbed the phone during the fifth consecutive ring, merely grunting into the receiver. 

“Where the fuck have you been, Alexandra? I have been trying to call you for hours.”

Malory, great. Alex bit back the urge to inform her boss that he had only been trying to call for the past twenty-five minutes. Malory did not wait for a response, not that Alex was overly keen to give him one. Instead she busied herself fishing a sachet of instant coffee and a carton of long life milk out of the pantry. 

“You have to return to Geraldine immediately.”

Alex stopped, the sachet between her teeth, waiting to be opened. “What’s happened?”

“The prisoner insists that he will only speak to you.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow, pouring the coffee into a dusty mug. While it brought her endless joy that Malory’s interviewing techniques had once again proven useless, she was more than a little apprehensive to see Loki again, or be with him in such close confines.

“Okay.”

“Get Stark and be here as soon as possible.” Malory hung up, leaving Alex with her eyebrows somewhere near her hairline. It was rare to hear Malory’s voice so lacking in grease. In fact, the lack of “darlings”, “my dears” and “little ones” was positively alarming. Setting the kettle to boil, she traipsed into the living room and threw a cushion at the bundle of blankets currently positioned on her couch. It groaned, the dishevelled features of Tony Stark peering up from under the blankets. Alex had not quite gotten over the fact that Tony Stark – _the_ Tony Stark – had spent the night on her lounge room furniture. 

“It’d better be an emergency,” he moaned, “I won’t settle for less than a zombie apocalypse. Maybe even a flood, if you’re lucky.”

“It’s Canberra; the only thing that can flood around here is my toilet.” Alex stalked back into the kitchen to take care of her coffee, yelling out as she went. “We need to get back to Geraldine ASAP. D’you reckon you’re jet’ll be ready to fly?”

“Tell you what, make me a coffee and I’ll see what I can do.”

oOoOoOo

Tony’s jet looked thoroughly out of place amongst the small, propeller driven aeroplanes littering the runway at Monkey Mia airport. A quick helicopter ride was all it would take to get them to Geraldine station. Though such obvious air travel was discouraged around the base, it could not be helped. Malory wanted her there as soon as possible, even if it did compromise the security of the operation.

Malory’s mood was neither good nor greasy upon their arrival. He merely thrust a clipboard into Alex’s hand and near dragged her toward the cage. The urgency still confused her. Why was it so important that she speak to Loki _now?_ He would be imprisoned there for weeks, months, even _years_. Why were a few hours so incredibly crucial? At the door to the observation deck, Lucas stared at her furiously. 

“Write everything down. Do _everything_ you need to in order to get this information.” _Everything_. What exactly did he mean by _everything?_

“Why am I writing it down, surely the observation team-?”

“The prisoner will not speak unless he is assured of complete privacy. Tinted glass, cameras deactivated and no sound. You will be completely alone in there.”

“Why are we in such a hurry, surely-?”

“Your fuckbuddy is a fickle bastard. I suspect this window will close soon. I personally feel that I am the best suited to the job, but he insisted he speak only with you.”

As the doors to the observation deck hissed open, Malory near pushed her into the glistening haven of buttons, screens and keyboards. A few employees turned, their faces relaxing as they realised that it was not the dreaded boss. Just the poor, likeable agent who was unfortunate enough (if the rumours were true) to share his bed. 

Alex bee-lined for the young agent overlooking the observation monitors. “Becky, how’s the prisoner going?”

Becky tossed aside her curtain of strawberry blonde hair, smiling at Alex. “He’s being restrained now. You should be able to enter any second.”

“And the guards...?”

“His lordship ordered that they leave too.” 

Alex smirked at the sarcastic inflection Becky placed upon _his lordship_. She knew full well that she was not talking about Loki, though the imprisoned prince would likely enjoy the reverence. No, the sarcastic nickname was given to the ever tyrannous Malory. Alex idly wondered if Malory had attempted something on Becky. She was pretty and petite – though busty – and not to mention blonde. Just like Alex. Malory’s type.

Alex made herself a quick promise that she would never allow Malory to touch the young agent, though exactly how she was going to manage that was something that had yet to come to mind. 

Shooting a quick thanks at Becky, she darted toward the elevator. The two guards greeted her on their way up.

“Watch out for him today. Feeling a bit blue,” one of them winked, before the doors closed in Alex’s face. She was well aware of the blue jokes that were being exchanged around the complex, but had yet to feel inclined toward engaging in them herself. Loki may have been the same colour as her toilet cleaner, but he was still the man she loved – passionately, endlessly.

And now she was finally going to be alone with him.

Stepping into his cage, she wondered what it would be like to kiss him in his Jotunn form. Would she freeze, her lips stuck to him like a tongue on a glacier? Or would it be like kissing an ice-lolly, cold yet pleasurable? It was getting close to summer, and the heat outside Geraldine station would soon reach up to forty-degrees centigrade. Perhaps Jotunn Loki would help her cool down?

Alex momentarily scolded herself for thinking of such things. She was a professional, and thoughts of Loki’s icy blue popsicle were unsuitable for the situation. Biting her lip, she pondered what his deliciously cold tongue would feel like on her-

“I wondered when you would come.”

His voice sounded deeper than she remembered. Perhaps it was his sour mood, or a ramification of his new form? 

“I came as quickly as I could.” She allowed her gaze to fall into his, storm grey eyes against crimson. Since depositing him in the cell a week before, she had barely had an opportunity to observe his new form – especially not up close. Now that the glass was shielded, her words private and actions unseen, she allowed herself to venture to the opposite side of the table. Slowly, she reached to cup his face, but he turned away.

“Do not touch me.”

“Why not?” Her voice did not betray her hurt, but her hand fell none the less.

“Why not? I am foul. You should be cowering at the end of the table, not _touching_ me.” Loki’s fists curled in their restraints. “I never wished for you to see me like this.”

“But I have, and now you have to deal with it.” Her eyes narrowed. “Considering you were brought up by one of the most ‘advanced’ races in the galaxy, you have a pretty interesting affinity for racism, Loki.”

“I am a monster.”

“No, you are a Frost Giant. I’m sure not all of them are monsters. It’s a bit like saying that everyone who follows a certain religion is a monster, just because of a few fundamentalists. Or that all mortals are hideous because we have men like Malory.”

“You are merely saying these words to extract information from me.”

Alex smirked. “According to Malory, you’ve already agreed to speak to me, so buttering you up would be completely pointless.” This time when she lifted her hand, he did not shy away. “You are blue, Loki, and yes it is a little shocking. The eyes and teeth are also bordering on creepy. But I’m not going to call you a monster.” As the pads of her fingers brushed against his skin, she found herself shocked as to just how smooth it was. The ridges that lined his features were the only bumps she came across and she could not resist but to follow the complex patterns. His skin was icy, but not so cold as to burn her flesh. Loki’s breathing seemed to quicken, but Alex was unsure as to whether this was because of her proximity, or that the ridges were supersensitive. 

Removing her hand from her face, she dug into the pocket of her jeans (she had yet to change into her uniform), pulling out a tiny silver key. It had been easy enough to snatch from the guards as they passed. 

“Malory told me to get information from you in whatever way possible,” she whispered, unlocking the restraints around his ankles. As she moved to his wrists, she met his eyes once more. “But I have missed you Loki, and I want you first.”

“You are shameless,” came Loki’s response, flexing his fingers as she freed his hands. “How can you want me in this form?”

Alex straddled his lap, running her tongue along the expanse of his cobalt neck. Dipping beneath his jaw, she could feel his pulse rushing. He was so icy, yet delicious, and every time her tongue grazed one of the ridges she felt him harden beneath her. 

“I want you to be reformed, Loki. I want you to be free one day. Not a clean slate, but a fresh start. You can’t have that unless you accept _this_ ,” she waved her hand at his body, “and you can accept this unless others do to.” Her lips brushed against his briefly. “Especially those who care about you the most.”

“So we fuck?” he groaned, deepening the kiss. His tongue, as icy as the rest of him, felt delectable as it pressed against hers. Fingers, long and cold as icicles, curled in her hair. As his lips came to her neck, she muttered, “the bedroom”, shivering at the sensation of his breath against her skin. 

They removed themselves from the chair in mere seconds, and in this moment, Alex could not help but notice that her lover was undoubtedly _taller_ (if only by a handful of inches) and _broader_ than he had been before. He was no Thor, but the size was noticeable. Frost Giant, indeed. 

Alex was thankful that the glass was already frosted in the bedroom (Malory’s doing, no doubt). In a way, it disturbed her that her horrid jealous ex-lover was encouraging this union (no doubt to use it against her at a later date), but the scent, sight and feel of Loki was too overpowering. She _wanted_ him. _Needed_ him. Even if there was the horrid possibility that the glass would defrost and she would be found squirming beneath his dark blue ridged form. 

Loki tore the grey jumpsuit from his body, leaving him in naught but an austere pair of boxer briefs. Alex made a quick note that she would never allow Loki to wear Asgardian underwear again. This sight... was breathtaking. The bulge at the front of these boxer briefs was even more so.

Ripping off her heeled boots, jeans, shirt and bra, she stood before him in her own underwear, a plain cotton pair fished from the bottom of her drawer in Canberra. They were hardly sexy, but they were drenched, and Loki’s tongue brushed across his lips at the sight. 

“Fuck me, you’re gor-”

Loki clamped his hand softly over her mouth. “I want your cunt, not your lies.”

Crass though he was, Alex felt herself smile. It was not a lie. He was gorgeous. The ridges continued down his body, forming delicate swirls and harsh lines upon his skin. His figure, while always impressive, seemed more so. It was almost _primal_. She wanted nothing more than to consume him, which is exactly what she prepared to do.

Her fingers found the elastic of his boxers before he could slap them away, pulling the thin material down over his arse and toward the floor. His cock, hard, slapped against his stomach as Loki fell back upon the bed. 

“Sit up, you lazy bastard,” she whispered. Loki obeyed, perching on the end of the bed, legs apart, cock poised. 

Kneeling before him, Alex gently explored it with her eyes. She could swear he was bigger in this form, something which filled her with a little apprehension. He was ridiculously huge in his _other_ form and she had not had sex in months... 

Three ridges swirled along its base, stopping at the head. Slowly, she licked the path of one, revelling in the loud moan from Loki’s lips. 

Ah, thank Odin for sound proof glass.

Once the other two had enjoyed the same treatment, she drew his head into her mouth, licking the glistening drop of pre-cum from the tip. Loki fell back upon the bed, eyes closed as her tongue worked its magic. She _loved_ doing this. Using one hand to stroke the base, the other dipped between his legs, gently kneading his testicles. 

“Take it all,” Loki gasped, hips thrusting. Alex obeyed, slipping his cock further down her throat. This single act caused him to utter a strangled yell, coming fast, filling her mouth with freezing cold spurts. She swallowed deep, still somewhat shocked by the temperature. 

Loki grabbed her hair, lifting her face to meet his. “Lie on the bed, and don’t make a noise.”

Within seconds her back collided with the mattress, mangled blonde tresses spread across the flat, hard pillows. Loki knelt before her, his cock at half-mast, fingernails clutching at her undies, which he ripped from her body. She wondered just how many pairs of her undies he had destroyed. 

“You have no hair.”

She almost giggled at his observation. “I didn’t just cut the hair on my head.” 

Loki merely frowned. “You will grow it back. I want to feel as though I am fucking a woman, not a young girl. Your hair too, you will not cut it again.”

“Excuse me, you are the prisoner here. You can hardly issue orders – AH!” Loki swiftly cut off her protests, running his tongue the length of her slit. He did not go deeper, merely kissing the soft, waxed skin. Despite his disapproval, she began to think the wax was worth the pain and money – she was so damned sensitive.

The cold of his lips and tongue made short work of her hot, flushed skin. Every lick caused a gasp to escape her lips. And when he lifted her thighs over his frosty shoulders and proceeded to suck her, she had to bite into the pillow to stop herself from screaming. Just as she thought she could take no more, her hips were lowered and he speared her in one swift movement. 

It had been so long since their last time, and his added size made this initial thrust somewhat discomforting, but with every roll of his hips the pain ebbed away. He did not feel _that_ cold, and she wondered if he was somehow able to regulate his body temperature. After all, surely the Frost Giants did not earn their name by merely being the same temperature as a mild Tasmanian winter? 

His rhythm slowed, body riding against hers as his long fingers kneaded her breasts and clit. She wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him deeper, emulating the act within their kiss. The embrace was almost leisurely. 

She moaned her first orgasm into his lips, only to feel the second building mere seconds later. Fingernails grazed the lines of ridges upon his back, drawing dark blood as she came, draining from him his own choked climax. 

“You are magnificent,” she whispered against his collarbone. 

Loki kissed her neck. “I will tell you everything, my Alexandra, if you let me do that again.”


	34. The Meaning of Pain

**Chapter Thirty-Four  
The Meaning of Pain**

Tempting though it was to remain within the haven of the bedroom, both Loki and Alex realised that this would eventually rouse suspicion. Neither was foolish enough to believe that Malory had allowed them complete privacy. Whether it was a planted audio device or a hidden camera, there was little doubt that Malory knew exactly what they were doing. Should Alex fail to extract any information from Loki, no doubt this evidence would come to light in the most unseemly of manners.

It was for this reason that both now found themselves seated at Loki’s table, a cool tumbler of water perched on the steel surface before them. Slowly, without thought, Alex tapped her fingertips upon untouched paper of her clipboard. 

“Thor claims you were under the control of an... _individual_... named Thanos. What can you tell us about him?”

Loki nearly smirked at the officious tone of her voice. No doubt the little mortal was attempting to separate their previous activities from the arduous task of what awaited. Briefly, he pondered whether the truth was enough. He was the god of lies. Perhaps he should embellish the tale here and there, make himself more of a hero? But what use would that be? No one cared if Loki struggled against Thanos’ hold. All they cared was that he remained incarcerated in this hole for the rest of his life.

In other words: for an eternity.

“Very little,” came his slow response. “Thanos never made himself known to me. We communicated through his – _assistant_ – a creature I knew of only as ‘The Other’.” He watched fascinated as she unleashed a flood of tiny black letters upon the page, the scrape of the pen the only noise permeating the silence.

“And what of ‘The Other’?”

“As far as I am aware, ‘The Other’ was Chitauri, or a species closely related to them. He would not tell me if Thanos was the same, though I suspect not. They referred to him as their Master.”

Alex nodded. This is as far as Loki had ever told her. He had elaborated a little further with his brother, but not much. Sometimes he wondered if these memories were simply mere fabrications, scenes of torture to reflect his inner turmoil about discovering his true parentage. He had arrived at the cesspit the Chitauri called home a broken man, a mass of wet clay destined to be reshaped. 

“What happened when you fell off the Rainbow Bridge?”

“I fell. And then I stopped. The event horizon that was created upon the destruction of the bi-frost took me I know not where. I was taken by the Chitauri, who are distrusting of outsiders. They had not heard of Asgard, or Jotunheim, or Midgard. But they could feel the energy of the Tesseract upon me.”

The pen stilled, Alex’s gaze meeting his. “How is that possible? You never came close to the Tesseract.”

Loki merely smiled. “The energy of the Tesseract saturated this world. It still does. It glows in the water we drink.” He tipped his glass. “The air we breathe. My brother returned from his foray reeking of its power and this transferred to me.” It was now his expression darkened. “At first I was reluctant to reveal the location of Midgard, because to do so would be to sacrifice Asgard. I felt that the Chitauri were lackeys for something far more powerful. But even I can only take so much...”

“They tortured you.”

“Torture is not exactly a word I would use to describe what they did. No inch of flesh, bone or sinew escaped their knives, their nails. The Chitauri may not be intellectuals, but they are proficient in the art of administering pain. After a time, my body had been pulled apart and reassembled so many times I lost count. My past seemed a distant memory, even though it had only been a few months. The whisperings of ‘The Other’ soon seemed to me to be reason. My allegiances started to falter. 

“It was several months before they sent me to Earth the first time. It was solely reconnaissance work. I found out where the Tesseract was being kept, and returned with what I considered to be good news. That was the first night that I was not tortured. Over time they convinced me that to aid them was to aid my own cause. That Midgard was mine for the taking, and would be mine should I give them the Tesseract. I believe you know the rest.”

“And should it be discovered that you are aiding us?”

Loki cocked an eyebrow. “The moment my brother took me into custody, the moment I failed, Thanos would have come for me. It may take months or even years, but they will come. Wherever I am will be in danger.”

“Can you tell us what to expect?”

“Thanos will arrive with forces far greater than the Chitauri. In my time there, I discovered that they were just one race under his control. He _wants_ the Tesseract, desperately. It will be unlike anything you have experienced before. Bringing me here was a mistake.”

“Why couldn’t you tell Agent Malory of this?”

“That man does not deserve my words.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow. “Fair enough.”

oOoOoOo

To say Malory was displeased about the intelligence collected was a severe understatement. “So you’re telling me he was nothing more than a lackey?”

“Loki wouldn’t approve of the term, but yes.”

Malory placed his coffee mug on the surface of the table harder than was necessary, sending a small wave of hot liquid cascading onto the wood. The room was relatively silent; even Fury – depicted on the screen above Malory’s head – was utterly silent. An odd mixture of emotions permeated the room. On the one hand, everyone had hoped that Loki would provide more information than he had. The fear was palpable. Surely bringing Loki to Geraldine only put Midgard in further danger? Yet if Thanos was as power hungry as Loki stated, he would likely enslave Midgard anyway. Strangely enough, the idea of the Earth being under the tyrannical rule of a gold-horned god with a kneeling fixation started to seem a little less repugnant.

Yet there were two people around the table that felt something else. Not pity, but intense horror and sadness. Loki would never appreciate their pity. To accept it would be a weakness he was incapable of accepting. Alex and Thor knew this, and chose to keep it entirely to themselves.

The group dissipated quickly, muttering among themselves. Alex joined the exodus, before Malory’s voice called her back into the room’s depths.

“Are you sure this is all he said?” Malory clutched the clipboard between tanned fingers; eyes dark. 

“Every word.”

“You are a lousy liar, Alexandra.”

“It is a good thing I am not lying then, isn’t it sir?”

Malory sneered. “I do not appreciate your tone.” Swallowing the last of his coffee, he removed himself from the chair. Alex was almost surprised when all he did was hand her a small USB drive.

“I thought you might like to see this,” Malory’s sneer morphed into a cruel smirk. “It is thoroughly entertaining viewing, I must say.”

The tiny lump of plastic suddenly felt like lead in her hands. 

“You may be an awful liar, Alexandra. But I am not. Did you seriously believe that the room was without any observation? I bet your boy knew. He probably loved the idea that you were being watched. Kinky fuck.” Malory leant closer. “Destroy this all you like, Alexandra. I have copies. Oh so many copies. 

“You see, I thought I might give you a chance. You get some really good information out of our prisoner, and I forget this ever happened. But like usual, you did not deliver the goods. You are fucked, my little ingénue, and I don’t mean in the literal sense.”

Alex’s eyes did not leave his back until Malory was well and truly out of the room. She should have known. She should have resisted, been more careful. Why would Malory ever allow her so much freedom? Slowly she let the USB stick drop to the concrete floor, crushing it beneath her heel.

She did not need to watch it.

She already knew it was her downfall.


	35. Biology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final proper chapter of _With All Vice Tainted_ , with only the epilogue remaining. I will be writing that over the next couple of days. It is about now that old readers of _Vice_ may want to once more tune in... because things are going to take a rather alternative road. Hope that you enjoy... and keep your eyes open for the epilogue.

**Chapter Thirty-Five  
Biology**

A month passed before Malory unleashed his damning evidence. The wait had been torturous, but Alex suspected that this had been Malory’s intent. It was a disgustingly effective trap. For her to disappear without explanation would likely rouse suspicion. Yet, every day spent within the compound only increased her anxiety. What was Malory waiting for? Her to confess to Fury in _person_? Maybe he expected her to grow complacent, to repeat her actions with Loki? Whatever it was, Alex was almost relieved when she got an urgent call from Director Fury.

For too long she had watched the blaze from a distance.

Now the flames had come.

That morning she donned her uniform with the utmost care. No crease or stain tainted the material, the navy blue sheath uncomfortable in its crispness. Her boots were at a high sheen, the faint residual scent of polish almost comforting. She spent longer than usual before the mirror, making sure her hair and minimal make-up were perfect.  
In a few hours she would join 5.4% of her fellow Australians. _Unemployed_.

The journey to Loki’s cell seemed to drag by as though experienced in slow motion. Alex almost imagined the funeral march being played, the steady click of her boots a metronome to the tune. As she walked, she pondered how expansive Malory’s exposure of her shame had been? Had the video been sent straight to Fury’s computer? Or perhaps it had also been sent to the Australian press. Oh, how they would love to see the ‘face of S.H.I.E.L.D’ brought to the ultimate low. Would the tabloids write lurid stories about the scandalous love affair? 

It was almost too horrible to contemplate.

Everything seemed to be in an almost cruel state of normality as she entered the observation deck. Becky greeted her with the same contagious grin. The guards at the elevator let her enter with the same bemused smiles. The only difference was the small crowd nestled within the glass cage. The Avengers, Fury, Agent Hill, _Malory_ – all crammed within the space of Loki’s bedroom, where a television had been placed a few months before. 

Apparently it was seen as a good idea for Loki to be exposed to the public’s opinion of him.

Yet now the screen was a dull blue, two single white lines in the left corner signifying that a video was paused. _The_ video. 

Fury greeted Alex with a mere nod, the simple gesture brimming with an undercurrent of anger and disappointment. The remote that controlled the privacy of the cell was in his hands. Within seconds, the glass clouded, the microphones falling mute.

Fury turned to Malory. “Remove the camera.”

Malory’s smirk faltered somewhat, but he obeyed. The camera was hidden in a copy of Victor Hugo’s _Les Misérables_ : a tiny thing, no bigger than a thumb tack, camouflaged against the spine of the huge tome. Still, Alex wondered how Loki had not noticed it. Surely he had read every book on the shelf ten times by now?

Fury grabbed the ingenious little device, crushing it beneath his heel. “This footage should have been brought to be the moment it was taken.”

Alex almost smiled. Malory was being _reprimanded_. 

Fury continued. “The placement of the camera should also have been mentioned in the initial blueprints of the cell. Exactly why you felt it necessary to have a secret camera within the prisoner’s _bedroom_ is entirely beyond me.”

Tony Stark sniggered, the sound quickly extinguished as Fury’s dark gaze fell in his direction. It seemed, to Alex, to be a form of procrastination. The contents of the video were obviously known to everyone in the room, yet it remained unspoken. Alex had never understood the saying “elephant in the room” until this moment. Only now, it did not feel like an elephant at all, but rather a Mûmakil. Every square inch of the room seemed to be occupied by the massive trumpeting beast. 

“How long has this been going on for?” Fury gestured vaguely toward the paused television screen, the intensity of his single eye now trained on Alex. 

There was no point in lying. “Several months, sir.”

“So while you were assigned to Asgard?”

“Yes.”

“And it never occurred to you that it was a bad idea?”

Alex looked up, surprised. “Constantly, sir.”

“But you didn’t stop?”

“She did not because I would not allow it.” Loki’s voice spilled from the far corner of the room, his presence near forgotten in the sheer tension. “I wanted her, I took her.”

Fury’s forehead creased at this point. “So it was not consensual?”

“No.”

“This is _bullshit_ ,” Malory snapped, drowning out Loki’s singular answer. “She wanted it just as much as he did! You saw the video.”

“A mere trick,” Loki shrugged. “I find no pleasure in an unwilling lover. I merely coerced her into thinking she was enjoying herself.”

“Loki, please-” Alex’s answer was cut short as Loki laughed. Cold. Distant.

“Look at her now, the foolish quim. Believing that she is in love with me. It will wear off, in time. A trick, as I said.”

Malory crossed his arms. “But this cell deters magic.”

“Biology. My Jotunn form allows me to create a pheromone to attract a mate.” Loki smiled now, the cruellest smile Alex had ever seen. “It’s quite fun, actually. Turns them into my slave. I always thought it was magic. Now I know better. She is not the first mortal I have fucked, nor will she be the last.”

“ _Brother_!” Thor’s gaze was wide at this point. “Surely this is not true.”

“Of course it’s not,” snapped Malory, “it is a lie fabricated to protect _her_.”

Loki smirked. “And why would I want to do that? The whore will lose everything either way. I just don’t want you believing me capable of _falling in love_ with something so _pathetic_.”

Fury looked on the edge of boiling point. Slowly he rubbed his temple with the pad of his thumb, before turning to Alex. “Is this true?”

“No.” Her voice was monumentally weak, yet she could not help it. Loki’s words had stung, though she suspected they were false. She _hoped_ they were false. Even if they were, with every syllable he surrendered, his ledger became increasingly red. World domination and now rape? His imprisonment would never end.

“She does not know what she is saying. The pheromone has clouded her mind.”

Thor gently interjected at this point, eyes downcast. “What my brother says holds reason. I have seen mortal women behave this way around him before. It is likely that Agent Beckett has been corrupted by this... pheromone.”

Fury merely sighed. “I don’t know what to believe, and frankly at this point I do not care. You” – he pointed at Malory – “will remove all the secret cameras from this cell. You” – this time Thor – “will come with me. And _you_ ” – Alex – “I will deal with tonight. You are confined to your quarters until further notice. Dismissed.”

Everyone filtered out of the cage at this point, the awkward atmosphere within the glass confinement almost stifling. Alex waited until she was almost alone with Loki, knowing full well that this would be a brief moment. The last moment. 

“I never said that I loved you.”

Her voice was a mere whisper, a delicate hum of sound. Yet within those seven words she knew everything was revealed. Her hurt. Her confusion.  
And most of all, _love_.


	36. Epilogue: Greenwich

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is! The epilogue. I know I said I would post it ages ago, but after seeing Thor: The Dark World (five times so far), I realised that I had to rethink everything. I want the Vice chronicles to be as close to canon as possible: and while there are a few discrepencies (for example: the timeline, and the fact that in my world Jane has already met Odin), I feel that I have managed to blend Vice and the Marvel Movie-verse together quite nicely. So of course, this epilogue does contain SPOILERS. If you have yet to see The Dark World, and don't want any spoilers, you may have to wait a while before reading this. It is the longest chapter of Vice - well over 4000 words - and I have put a lot in there. I hope that you enjoy.

**Epilogue  
Greenwich**

The air was still with the constant ringing of phones, the hum of voices murmuring desperately into mouthpieces. Every so often the dull roar of noise would be permeated by the drag of a chair across tiles, a delicate cough, the disgruntled moans of an employee. _YourLife Insurance_ had never seen such an influx of communication, but then again, it was not every day that London was attacked by creatures from another world.

The destruction of Greenwich was almost too impossible to believe. _Aliens? In London?_ Things like this happened in Doctor Who, not in _real life_. Footage of the decimation swamped the media world-wide. Eye-witnesses were interviewed mercilessly. Yet at the back of many minds, there was the niggling feeling that maybe it was all a hoax. Surely, if they jumped on the Underground to Greenwich, they would find the area as it always had been: luscious, beautiful and rich in history.

As the days wore on, the employees of _YourLife_ began to wish that the sceptics were correct. How did one tell a homeless family that their apartment was not covered for “unexpected alien attacks”? How did one replace a car that had been transported to a completely different _realm?_ Abuse poured through the phone lines while rejected insurance claims flashed angrily upon computer monitors.

Only one employee seemed relatively calm amongst the chaos. It was not that Maria Tyron necessarily _enjoyed_ being abused. In fact, she hated dealing out rejection as much as her colleagues. It was just that this was the first time she had been swamped with vitriol, and at least in _this_ case it was not personally aimed at _her_. She could hide behind the receiver, beneath the thick London accent she had adopted. Even if the claimants were sitting at her desk, she doubted they would recognise her as the prior liaison officer for the Geraldine station. Alexandra Beckett was long gone: hidden beneath dark hair dye, tinted eyebrows and thick rimmed glasses. 

All that remained now were the memories.

As it was, her dismissal from S.H.I.E.L.D had been civilised. Fury was almost... _kind_. He had arrived at her quarters at seven-thirty. She had no idea what had transpired between he and Thor, but then again, she did not expect she would ever find out. It must have been arduous, though, for Fury looked more exhausted now than he had when departing the cage mere hours before.

“You realise what I have to do?”

No niceties. Nothing. She did not expect them. Her response was to nod.

“Pheromones or not, you have been compromised Agent Beckett, in the worst possible way. I can’t keep you on this team.”

Alex’s voice was weak. “Okay.”

“I will allow you to resign: all your leave will be paid.”

This had been unexpected. _Resign? Leave paid?_ Alex was convinced she had misheard. Coerced or not, fraternising with the enemy was worthy of worse punishment than _this_. This was no more than a slap on the wrist!

“But sir-!”

“I like you, Agent Beckett. That is why I sent you to Asgard in the first place. I don’t know the full story here. I really don’t _want_ to know. You are – _were_ – a member of S.H.I.E.L.D and I understand that our lives aren’t exactly _normal_. We have to live by an alternative moral code. You will lose your job for this, but I won’t be responsible for ruining your future.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me, Agent Beckett. You still have a lot to deal with. You are the public face of this organisation, and the press are going to want to know what happened to you. Think of something good.”

Alex nodded.

Fury headed toward the door, long leather jacket hissing against the concrete. Fingers wrapped around the handle before the director turned back to face her. “Is there any reason why Malory was so intent on framing you?”

It was in this moment that Alex knew she had a hard decision to make. On the one hand, to throw forward all of Malory’s sins seemed petty. A last ditch attempt at vengeance. But what if her words were of benefit to the other women in her position? Women like Becky in Observations?  
“It is because of what I know, sir.”

Fury cocked his one, unblemished eyebrow. “Care to elaborate?”

“About Malory. About what he _does_.”

Fury’s fingers now moved from the door handle. His eyes fell upon the small desk, and Alex wondered if he was going to take a seat. Perhaps he suspected a long tale? From the look on his face, it seemed as though he already knew the gist of it.

“Malory only hired me because of the way I look.” The words seemed pathetic, but Alex continued. “I am his type. He has hired women like me before, he still does. He picks those that are career driven, knowing he can hold it against us. He has power in the public service. If we do not give him what he wants, he can strip us of our jobs and make it so that we can never get another.”

“What did he make you do?”

Alex glanced up, gazing into Fury’s singular chocolate toned eye. “Everything, sir.”

“But when he discovered you and the prisoner...?”

“He blackmailed me. Waited until he had solid evidence. I guess that explains the camera in Loki’s room.”

“Can you get me the names of the other women Malory has-”

“Exploited?” Of course she could. She already had. Even though she though this kind of revenge belittling, it had not stopped her gathering evidence. It was nestled among the contents of her desk, a tiny crimson flash drive. Records, accounts, saved emails – all from the women that Malory had _used_ before. Every one of them, like Alex, was blackmailed into not talking. Every one of them _yearned_ to see his head served up on a platter. It was this damning little stick that Alex handed to Fury, the plastic seeming almost insubstantial in his massive hand.

“You will find everything on that. All the women. All of them are willing to talk, to give evidence, if they can be protected from _him_.”

“You have been planning this for a while, haven’t you?”

Much to Alex’s surprise, Fury almost sounded impressed. She supposed he had been involved in some dodgy dealings himself. This kind of thing was his cup of tea.

“It was my final defence, in case Malory ever went after anyone else.”

“Do you think he will?”

“Becky. She works in Observations. She told me he had been lingering around her, making hints. That’s how it starts.”

Fury slipped the small nugget of information drenched plastic into his pocket with a final nod. “I will look into this further. As for you, Miss Beckett, you will leave here tonight.”

This abrupt dismissal sent Alex’s life on a wayward trajectory. Years as a workaholic meant that she had enough accumulated leave to fund her for months. After informing the press that she was resigning from her post due to _family reasons_ , she had dropped from the public eye. Her apartment in Canberra was sold, the funds going toward one of her dreams: _travel_. 

Looking back, the months she had spent on the road appeared an idyllic fantasy. Australia, the _world_ , loomed before her – an adventure yearning to be embraced. Everything seemed perfect, until she bumped into Agent Phil Coulson. 

To say she was shocked was an understatement. As far as she knew – as far as _anyone_ knew – Agent Coulson was dead. Yet here he was, in the middle of the Tasmanian wilderness, standing at the entrance to her tent. At first she had thought him a figment of her imagination. It was only when Coulson grabbed her arm and dragged her from the tent that Alex realised she was not dreaming. 

“Alexandra Beckett, you are coming with us.”

Gagged and blind-folded, she had been escorted to what she assumed was a typical S.H.I.E.L.D issue SUV. Hours passed, but the driving did not cease. No one spoke, yet even through the silence Alex could feel the blanket of disapproval. It was hardly surprising. Coulson knew what she had done. Of course he did. And he loathed her for it.

The blind-fold slipped from her eyes, revealing a nondescript room with textured walls. She was seated at a stainless steel table, a glass of water placed before it. It reminded her vividly of Loki’s dining table in Geraldine.

Across this table sat Coulson, ever the same in his crisp suit. Only now the joviality was lost from his features. Death had not treated Coulson kindly. Standing at his right was a stern looking agent with a ridiculously chiselled jaw. The gag was swiftly removed, the sodden rag thrown upon the table.

“Where exactly am I?” Her voice was weak, ragged from lack of use. 

Coulson cocked an eyebrow. “If I told you that, I would have to kill you.” Something about the glint in his eye told Alex that the agent was not entirely _joking_. “You should be asking _why_ you are here.”

“I was getting to that.”

“You can thank your friend Lucas Malory for that.”

Alex could not stop the shock from tainting her voice. “ _Malory_? I thought he was fired.”

Coulson allowed a small smirk to curl his lips, before pushing a folder across the table at her. “Oh, don’t worry. He was. That’s the problem. Malory held a grudge against you, one which has undermined the entire Geraldine project and also placed you in danger.” He gestured for Alex to open the file, before continuing. 

“When Malory lost his position, we confiscated everything he had in relation to the project, including what we thought was every copy of your little...”

Alex paled. “Yes, well...”

“Let’s just say that Malory was a little more enterprising than we thought. To cut a long story short, he released a copy of the video to the press. You’re lucky you’ve been out of earshot. Let’s just say that what they’ve been saying about you makes Malory look like a pre-school teacher.” 

Alex’s hands trembled as she fingered through the rest of the document. It contained a number of newspaper clippings, all of which elicited within her the desire to vomit. The video. She had thought it a nightmare of the past. Yet here it was, haunting her once more. She could only imagine the damage to her reputation. What would her friends think? What would her family think? But then again, this was so much more than simply the domestic implications. No doubt her reputation was sullied worldwide. The news would have even reached Asgard. 

Coulson sipped his water, though Alex was sure if she did the same she would merely bring it back up again. 

“Other than ruining your reputation, Agent Malory also revealed the location of Geraldine. The prisoner has been removed to Asgard, the station destroyed. You’ve cause us quite a little problem here.”

“I’m sorry.” Alex regretted the words as soon as they emerged. _I’m sorry_? What sort of the idiotic thing to say was _that_? 

Coulson took away the first folder, handing her one of Tony Stark’s digital devices. “I expect you understand the gravity of the situation? We have no idea where Malory has gone. But as long as you remain here you are in danger. Therefore, you are to go under extreme witness protection. This” – he pointed to the folder – “will provide you with everything you need. Your new identity, everything. Read it carefully.”

“But... what about-?”

“As of tomorrow, everyone will believe that Alexandra Beckett died while hiking on the Tasman Peninsula. They will find your tent, your belongings and a track leading to the cliffs of Waterfall bay. No doubt they will suspect you committed suicide after hearing the news.”

“But...”

Coulson shot her a dark look. “It really is very simple, Miss Beckett. You either live, or you die. Now is your chance to decide which of these two options seems more appealing.”

oOoOoOo

The woman once known as Alexandra Beckett sipped her strong black coffee, the insurance claim flashing upon her screen making less sense with every passing moment. The noise had died down now, the phones ringing less frequently, the rapid slash of fingers across keyboards less deafening. Every so often the employees of _YourLife_ would glance at the clock on the wall, yearning for the alignment of hands that would allow them freedom.

Five-thirty came suddenly, orchestrated by the loud thud of headsets hitting desks. Alex dropped her own, slipping it into the top drawer of her immaculate desk. The insurance claim, now completed, was printed and stacked neatly within a document folder. She would deal with it tomorrow. For now, she wanted nothing more than a hot bath and endless re-runs of _Castle_. 

Unfortunately, though, this idyllic evening was not to be.

As Alex finished the last of her coffee, the cubicle was invaded by a flash of colour. Her flat-mate Clara. With fiery red-hair and a propensity for wearing everything green, Clara stood out within the stuffy halls of _YourLife_ insurance. “So... Maria. A few of us were thinking of going to...”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

Alex shot her an exasperated look. “You want to go to Greenwich. You know how I feel about that.”

Clara pouted. “But we hear about it all day! Don’t you want to know what everyone is whinging about?”

That was just it. Alex did. Desperately. She had obsessively followed the Greenwich disaster since it had first appeared on the news a week before. The only thing they had said was that Thor had been involved. But who was he fighting? Some sources claimed that ship had belonged to Thor’s brother. Loki, freed from Geraldine, determined to cause yet more damage. This theory merely caused Alex’s gut to tighten. She may have feared encountering Malory again, but this was nothing compared to the ambiguity she felt toward Loki. 

Even now, years later, she refused to acknowledge that what she was experiencing was heartbreak. She had always known Loki to be a cruel bastard, and his final words had been clear evidence of this. He was the god of _lies_ , so surely everything he had said about _love_ were mere falsehoods to draw her once more into his bed? 

Since Loki, she had been with no other man.

This was just one of the reasons she felt apprehension about going to Greenwich. Did she want the full force of those memories to resurface? Then there were the parting words of Coulson. As Maria Tyron she was not to get directly involved in anything S.H.I.E.L.D related. Surely, walking straight into the ruined husk of the Old Naval College would be doing just that? The public was strictly forbidden from going _near_ the area, and while the crowds still lingered, Alex suspected that the S.H.I.E.L.D presence was strong.

But would they notice her behind the shining beacon that was Clara?

“Okay, but only for a minute.”

Clara snorted. “Don’t worry, Maria. I’ll get you home to Nathan Fillion before it gets dark.”

oOoOoOo

Greenwich was worse than Alex could ever have imagined. Chunks of turf, stone, alien technology and human detritus were blended together in the kind of destruction she had not witnessed since New York. Cracks ran through the pavements like veins, stretching from the large craters that could have only come from Mjolnir. The place buzzed with energy: from Thor, from Asgard, from whatever had ploughed through the main square of the College.

Guarding the scene were a strange accumulation of the Metropolitan police force and black-suited S.H.I.E.L.D agents. Alex tugged her ragged woollen beanie down further over her head. The last thing she needed was an unprecedented run-in with Coulson and his team. Thankfully hunger was the deciding factor as to how long her companions remained at the site. After taking a few shots with her iPhone, Clara uttered something about a new restaurant along the Embankment. It was only as they were heading toward the Underground station that Alex felt the hand grab her shoulder. 

She stopped, turning abruptly. In a second, years of S.H.I.E.L.D training returned. Beneath the layer of extra padding she had accumulated over her time as Maria Tyron, her muscles tightened, preparing for what was to come. But the owner of the hand was not Coulson, nor any of his team. Rather, it was Darcy Lewis.

“I _knew_ it was you!”

Alex swiftly turned to her companions, only to discover they had already dived into the Underground. _Nice_.

She smiled awkwardly. “Sorry, I think you must have the wrong person.”

Much to her shock, Darcy laughed. “Nope. It’s you. Even if you look... like _me_.”

Alex yearned to run away, but at the same time, she wanted nothing more than to scoop her friend into a hug. “How...?”

“I’m just really perceptive.” It was in this moment that Darcy lunged at Alex, wrapping her in a hug that knocked the breath from her lungs. “Yay! You’re alive. _How_ are you alive? No! Don’t tell me. You have to come to Jane’s. Selvig’s there. And Ian. He’s my bit on the side. Cute.”

Without stopping, Darcy dragged Alex through the crowd. The London air was delightfully brisk, and Alex found herself enjoying walking above ground. Like many residents of London, she had become somewhat reliant on the artilleries of transport that spread beneath the city. 

“So, is it true?”

Alex frowned. “True?”

“That you and Mr Cheekbones were getting groiny?” Darcy grinned once more. “Yeah, I saw all the stuff on the news. But I want to hear it from you.”

“Yes, Loki and I were engaged in-”

“Rampant sexy-times?” By now Darcy was almost pinging with excitement. “That is so freaking awesome. I mean seriously. How many people can say they screwed a super villain? I also can’t believe you didn’t _tell_ me. All that crap about not shagging anyone in Asgard. Liar!”

“You are very disturbed. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Jane does all the time? I just remind her that I’m not the one shagging the blonde surfie with the big hammer.”

Alex could not help but giggle at this. “Is ‘shag’ your new favourite word or something?”

“I’m just learning the local lingo. What’s with the accent, by the way, you sound like you’ve stepped out of _The Bill_.”

Darcy stopped before a looming chunk of apartments. It was a nice corner of London, the street barely tainted by litter. The only mess were the skeletal remains of leaves, blowing lazily across the road. Alex followed Darcy through the door and into the main foyer. 

“I guess I’m just used to it. It’s part of who I am now.”

“So are you in some weird form of S.H.I.E.L.D witness protection then?” Darcy was now pinging. “That is so freaking cool.”

It was only as Darcy’s key slipped into the lock of the apartment door that Alex realised the gravity of the situation. Her cover had been blown, and behind this shield of wood were two people who would likely think the worst of her. Selvig probably hated her as much as Coulson did. And then there was Jane...

As the door creaked open, Darcy shot Alex yet another exhilarated look. “Oh yeah, by the way, Thor is here too. He’s going to totally love this.”

oOoOoOo

It was a desperately awkward situation. Had Alex really stopped to think in the crowd at Greenwich, she would have run toward the Underground with her colleagues. This was stupidity at its most profound. Yet it was based upon the same niggling desire that had drawn her to Greenwich in the first place. Though awkward, reuniting with Darcy was a coveted taste of her past. As the door opened, and the residence of the rooftop apartment began to see past the dark hair and accent, it became even less awkward. Jane wrapped her in a hug almost as vigorous as Darcy’s. Selvig, though clearly disapproving of her choice in bedfellows, was polite enough. Ian, Darcy’s intern and current fling, was desperately cute, and more than a little confused about exactly what was going on.

And then there was Thor.

The God of Thunder had changed significantly since Alex had last laid eyes on him at Geraldine. While still physically impressive, he was no longer simply a creature of strength. Melancholy surrounded him, evident in his gaze, his posture and the way his smile did not quite reach his eyes. This resonant sadness had nothing to do with his current surroundings. But exactly what had caused the God of Thunder to be like this, caused Alex more than a little apprehension.

“Lady Alexandra! I thought you dead!”

_Lady Alexandra_. It had been so long since she had heard those words. The five syllables seemed to drag her back to Asgard: to golden evenings, sword fighting with Sif, banquets, parties and nights encased in silken sheets. 

Alex welcomed Thor’s hug, though she could feel the hesitance in it. It was as though he were holding back. Alex’s apprehension returned. “It is Maria now. Maria Tyron.”  
Thor shot her a sad smile. “You will always be Lady Alexandra to me.”

Despite her fear that Coulson would come charging through the door at any minute, Alex found herself enjoying the company of her old friends. Over a dinner of pizza and Pepsi, she heard the story of what had happened at Greenwich. The truth was even stranger than the flitters of rumour that saturated the British press. Dark elves, worlds converging, writhing masses of energy. In the space of a few hours, Alex found herself not only yearning to be included in this world once more, but also thankful she had escaped from it. It was only as the hour turned late that Thor drew her aside.

The apartment’s roof-top landing was empty but for a few wayward pigeons, their heads bobbing manically as they scooped up the discarded crumbs of pizza thrown to them by Darcy. London stretched before them, blackened only slightly by the scar of Greenwich. The city had become Alex’s home, and she found herself proud of its resilience. Fire, plague, terrorism and alien attacks. None seemed to penetrate the spirit of the city. It continued to thrive, and would do so for centuries to come.

Thor looked toward her, impressive, even in his Midgardian clothing. “There is something you must know.”

Alex found the breath hitching in her throat. “I suspected as much.”

“When Malekith attacked Asgard, many of my people were killed. Including-” Thor paused, the wavering in his voice clear indication that he was reluctant to continue speaking. “Including my mother.”

The tears pooled in Alex’s eyes before the truth settled in. _“Frigga?” The Queen?_ No... no... that could not be right. Frigga could not be dead. She was the strongest woman Alex had ever met. Surely Thor was mistaken...

“I wish it were not the case. I wish it every day.” Thor’s voice was broken now. “She died protecting Jane from Malekith. She died protecting us _all_.” A sad smile now broke his features. “I wish you could have been there for the funeral, Lady Alex. I have never seen one more beautiful.”

“I wish I could have been there too.” Alex’s voice was so small now. She did not know what to say. All she could think about was how Frigga’s death would impact upon the realm she loved so much. Upon Odin. Upon Thor. Upon... “Loki.”

She did not mean to verbalise the name. It simply slipped from her lips. 

“Mother’s death hit Loki hard. He was imprisoned, deep within the bowels of Asgard, when it happened. I think, in a way, he blamed himself for her death.”

Alex started panicking at this point. Why was Thor talking about Loki in the past tense? 

“It was Loki that led Jane and I to Svartalfheim. He knew the secret pathways out of Asgard better than even Heimdall. I promised him his life if he helped us. But he did not listen...”

Alex was now gripping the railing to the balcony; her breath coming in short bursts... “No.”

Thor’s fingers covered hers. “He did it for mother. And despite all that he said, I feel he also did it for _you_.”

“No.”

“I am so sorry, Lady Alex. Loki was desperately flawed, but I feel that if anyone could have returned my brother to me it would have been you. If you were given the chance. When I heard that you were dead, I kept it from him. I knew he would never recover from that. Now that you are alive I loathe that I have to tell you this...”

“No, please.”

“I am sorry, Lady Alex. But Loki is dead.”

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know. I am a horrible bitch! Please forgive me! But if you've already seen The Dark World, you know that Lokikins is not really dead. I am also providing you with sequels... so worry not! There is more smutty goodness to come. I would like to thank you all for joining me on this journey (or re-joining me, if you read the original too). It has been fun! I love you all, and I know that I would never have gotten this far if it hadn't been for the support of my readers. You guys are brilliant, funny, insightful and wonderful in every way! *blows kisses at everyone* Thank you!


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